WHY SHE FOLLOWED
by ForeverAmberlie
Summary: WHAT SHOULD HAVE HAPPENED ON REVOLUTION...Starts when Charlie tracks Bass and Connor after the fight with Miles, and they leave the group...She has to make him come back. Can she make him see they are all stronger together? And now what will they both have to face?
1. Chapter 1

Charlie watched the men from her hiding place for hours, and it was getting old. Now that the shock of seeing Tom there with Connor and Bass, it was getting old, that is. At first the sight about gave her a heart attack.

_When would that crazy man be out of her life?_

The sickening, familiar feeling of guilt and despair sat in her gut.

_Jason._

Not enough time had passed that the memory of that afternoon wasn't still intensely painful…not by a long shot. And it was only a few days since Tom, his usually cold and deadly eyes instead projecting the soul of a broken man while they looked through her…And pulled the trigger.

Her stomach lurched. The hollow anxiety sat on her chest like a teasing demon. She didn't expect it would ever feel better, or different. And she was pretty sure she didn't deserve it to feel better.

_Jason. _

Charlie watched Toms face through the smoke of the threesomes' freshly lit fire. She breathed deeply the cold air around her, and thought he still looked like a broken man… A very dangerous, broken man. She held no doubt he would want to finish the job of killing her, if he'd known she was so near, and she couldn't even blame him. She had wanted to kill Bass Monroe with a passion for a very long time, because of Danny.

And he hadn't even looked into Danny's eyes while the shot rang. Like she did…

It was crazy to think she didn't want to kill Bass anymore. In fact, that was furthest from the reason she had tracked him here after he and Connor had packed up and abandoned the group.

_Abandoned her…_

She shook the thought from her throbbing head. Stupid. It had nothing to do with her. It was all Miles. It seemed like every hot-headed thing Bass ever did came back around to Miles. It was almost pathetic… Except she knew better, having been around them together for so long now. She…got it, she guessed.

It was very complicated, but really very simple. They loved each other. They loved like brothers—closer than brothers, really. Miles was never that close to her dad… They were almost like one mind, one person in so many ways it boarded on creepy.

_Except _where her mother came into it.

They were very far apart on Rachel, Charlie thought. That was a whole Pandora's box of shit she hadn't even begun to figure out. And she didn't want to try, really. She just wanted Bass to come to his senses and come back with her. The rest… she doubted it mattered as much as them all sticking together.

_As him sticking with her._

…She watched as Bass got up from the fire and said something to Tom and Connor. He pointed at Tom, and Connor sat his knife closer to him, out of Toms sight she thought… Interesting. She didn't know what the hell was going on, but it was clear they were not feeling easy with the man. That was good. Maybe she could talk Bass into killing him before they headed back.

_One less thing to worry about, _She thought. She moved quietly in the direction Bass was heading. To the water, she realized. The stream she'd drank from before, down the bank and past the trees.

She easily found her way through the dark, treading so lightly no one could have heard her…She was very good at this, a talent she might have gotten from her Uncle, like dry sarcasm and being quick with a blade.

Charlie found Bass kneeling down by the water, with his shirt off, splashing water onto his face and rubbing it through his curly hair. It was darker now, and little starlight made it through the tree tops…But moonlight glowed on the water. Almost a full moon, she realized, glancing up for only a moment. Enough light that she could see better down here than back at her hiding place.

When she looked back at Bass he was pointing a pistol in her direction.

"Come out." He ordered.

"Don't shoot, asshole. It's me." She said before she stood to face him.

"Charlie?" She moved closer so he could see it was really her. She saw him register the fact before his eyes darted around, and behind her.

"Nope. Just me. He's…not here." Bass's jaw muscles flexed, before he lowered the pistol.

"Good."

"Mmm hmm," She cocked a brow. _If that's how he wants to play it._

"What the hell are you doing here, Charlotte? Trying to get yourself killed? Tom Neville is here… I doubt he'd be thrilled to see you. Or maybe he would, _get it?_" He widened his eyes at here like she was stupid.

"Yes, I know. By the way, _what the fuck_? Why are you with _Tom Neville_, Bass?" She hissed at him, stepping closer.

Bass studied her face for a moment, and turned away, knelling by the water again. "It's none of your damn business, Matheson. Go on, and get out of here before he finds you…I don't need Miles or your bitch mother telling me one more thing is my fault."

Charlie narrowed her eyes at his bare back. What was this crap? She moved up on him and bent down over his shoulder, "Oh. You think I think you'd just _let him_ kill me? Ok. Sure, Monroe. Sure you would."

He stood abruptly, causing her to start to fall back, but he caught her none too gently by the wrist. He shook it as he spoke, "_What_ do you _want_?"

"You."—his head cocked in question.

"I mean, I want you to come back. Obviously. "

He smiled, but it wasn't a smile. It was that thing he did when he thought everyone around him was crazy or dumb. It kind of made her want to smack it off his face, except he still had hold of her wrist.

"No. I'm not coming back, I'm moving on." He pulled her closer and practically hissed in her face, "I have things to do."

Charlie slowly shook her head at him in disappointment.

"I thought you changed." And it was true. She did think he'd changed. He's saved her from death—and worse, she figured. He'd backed them all up, he'd fought beside them all. Hell, even had some laughs with them… That wasn't _General Monroe_… That was Bass. She knew.

He had gone still at her words. Very still. And when he finally spoke she almost detected a break in his voice, "Screw you, Charlie."

He dropped her wrist and turned to reach for his shirt on the ground. But Charlie was quick, and grabbed it first, hopping back from him.

"You know, I'd expect that shit from Miles, Charlie. But not you. I actually thought we were on the same page with most things… Turns out you're trying to play me like your mother plays Miles. Give me my damn shirt." He reached for it.

"No." She tucked it behind her.

"Charlie. Now."

"I don't take _orders_ from you." She huffed, shaking her head at him. "No. We fight together. As equals. "

He smirked at her, "Oh is _that right_? Is that how you see it, kid?"

"That's how it _is." _She hated it when he called her kid.

The air held still between them, their angry gazes dueling. Until Bass stepped slowly toward her.

"Give me my shirt."

"At least that's how it was. Before you went and decided to shove your head up your ass—_again_—and throw a tantrum because Miles didn't agree with your asinine plan. Which, _by the way_, really did sound like the old Monroe, if you want to know!"

"I don't. Give me my shirt." He tried to reach around her back, but she spun out of his way.

"Bass. This can't be what you want. After everything we have all been through these last months… I can't believe that. We are _better together_!" She shook her head at him. He had to see that was true.

Her words seemed to affect him. He put his hands on his hips, drew a deep heavy breath, and looked at the ground for a long moment. When he spoke his voice was quiet, but some of his anger was gone.

"Miles has made it clear he doesn't agree."

"You left. He didn't tell you too."

"Your _mother _and Miles, your grandfather… None of them want me there, Charlotte."

"I don't care. I don't care what they want! _I _want you there. We are better all together, we are safer and stronger together—"

"Charlie—"

"_I feel_ better with you around! Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?" She pushed out her words and then quickly snapped her mouth shut. Her lips rolled tightly together. _Where the hell did that come from?_

She was so shocked at herself she wasn't ready for him to step so close to her, right up close. He reached around her and took hold of his shirt. But she didn't let it go. His face was only inches from hers.

"Don't you mean you feel better when _Connor_ is there?" His blue eyes somehow glowed in the moonlight. "Isn't that why you fucked _him,_ Charlie?"

Her breath caught, and her brow knit. That was months ago, and nothing had happened since leaving New Vegas. Even though Connor thought it might for awhile. She realized Bass had a new edge to his voice…

"That isn't what I said, is it?" She looked him straight in the eyes. His arm was around her waste, clutching his shirt. Her arm was behind her back holding onto it, not letting go. "And why would you care?"

His expression tightened. "See? You're just like your mother. Playing these games." That took her back. _What the hell_?

"Funny. Because not long ago she accused me of being too much like you." She said.

Bass cocked his head at that. Studied her… His eyes traveled from her eyes to her lips, which she suddenly needed to lick. He watched her tongue as she did it, and then he was leaning into her, his bare chest against her, his lips gracing her ear.

"I'll tell you a secret now that I'm leaving, Charlotte." His warm breath on her neck made her shiver, "It drives me crazy to think you did that. It drove me _crazy_… And I think you knew it. And _that_ is a game."

Charlie swallowed. He didn't move away from her, and she fought to process his words… _That wasn't true._

_Was it?_

She placed her free hand on his chest to try and get some space between them, but when she gently pushed against him he refused to move. She looked down at her hand on his skin, feeling the heat of him even in the chill night air. Her fingers splayed. He sucked air.

And then he released his shirt and both his strong hands were up around her face, holding it, and his mouth was on hers, none too gently.

Charlie's arms, shirt still in hand, came around his waste of their own volition. Pulled him closer, tighter to her. He pushed his tongue past her lips, a small moan in his chest.

_What was happening?_ She distantly wondered. This wasn't the plan. Kissing Monroe—being kissed by Monroe—never in the plan. But… _holy hell. It was what she wanted._

When she had sex with Connor, she had known just what she was doing… Although, she later thought, didn't really know _why_ she was doing it. It wasn't until Bass brought it up to her on the road later, that she really realized she might not want to look too closely at her motives… She had agreed with herself not to over think it. It happened. In this life, crazy shit happened. You move on. She moved on. They all moved on.

_Didn't they?_

But now it was like she had no choice. It was like her body was responding with some primal instinct, some plan of it's own. Some plan that had taken too long to manifest, and now it was _starving _for him. _Starving for Bass Monroe_.

She couldn't breathe. She didn't need to breathe. She was breathing _him._ And for the first time in day she didn't feel anything ripping at her gut, or squeezing her heart in regret.

"Bass…" she gasped against his lips.

His fingers came around to grip in her hair, his scruff scratching her face as he moved his mouth hungry against her own. She pressed against him, grinding, feeling his arousal through both their jeans.

This. This is what she wanted. What she _needed_. It didn't even matter that Connor and Tom Neville could just any moment come upon them—and at least one of them would try to kill her. It didn't matter that her mother or Miles would be furious beyond comprehension, or that, no matter the last many months of comradeship—this was still the same man who was responsible, one way or the other, for her brother's death. She should feel shame. She should feel regret or self-loathing…

But she didn't.

Her hand dropped the shirt and came around his front and rubbed heatedly against his erection. He growled, lowered his mouth to her neck. Kissing, searching, tasting.

"Is this what you wanted when you did it, Charlotte? Is this what you wanted all along?" His purred.

She unzipped his pants, and stuck her hand inside, gripping his dick in her cool hand. His head came up off her neck, and their eyes met. Both fiery, glazed…

"Don't talk about it." She said. They held their gaze. Locked. She rubbed him, making him shudder. "This is what I want now."

"Don't say that if you don't mean it." He warned her.

She gave him another tug, harder. He was large in her grip, and she felt him respond larger still. She pushed her breasts into him. "You don't scare me."

Without warning he had her tripped and on the soft banks of the stream, his weight on top of her. His beautiful face hung over hers in the dark. A face she had hated and wanted to kill for so long. Now she pulled it down to her. He kissed her again, hard.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, Charlotte…" He hissed between kisses. Her hands ran up and down his naked back, and into his jeans over his hard ass. He rubbed and pushed into her, through their pants.

She moaned, and he quieted her with his lips. "Shhhh… They'll hear us."

Somehow the knowledge that what she was doing was dangerous, this sudden, unlikely passion in the dark made her need to feel her naked skin against his. She tried to shuffle out of her leather jacket… the excitement of getting caught… She vaguely recalled the feeling when she was with Connor, wondering in the not-so-far-back of her mind when Bash would return to camp.

_Games. As he said._

She didn't care. She really didn't. Life was short, and cruel, and ugly. She knew the truth well. She only felt ok when her blood was pumping, and this man—_Bass Fucking Monroe_—made it pump. Fighting, drinking, making plans, or just hiking beside her… He made her blood pump.

He made her feel better. Like a drug. That's what he was. Like a drug…She might as well be lost in an opium den back in New Vegas. The high was the same.

…Suddenly Bass stilled, his lips hovering above hers. His body became tense. She thought maybe he heard something, and stopped struggling with her jacket.

He lowered his forehead to hers, softly, after a moment. Then he kissed her mouth again, but this time softly, so softly. And he pushed himself up off her. He was standing, tucking himself back in, with some difficulty.

"What—what are you doing?" She asked, dazed. She felt cold without him near her, with his heat and weight gone missing. Nothing grounding her to this earth.

He said nothing, but reached down a hand up.

"Bass?" Charlie stood with him, laid her hands on his chest, but he grabbed them both gently in his own, and held them away from him.

"No. No, Charlie…" He sounded mournful. Broken.

"What?" She was stunned. Cold and stunned, and wanting nothing but the feel of him near her again. She stepped forward, reaching to raise her mouth to his. He stepped back, still holding her hands gently in his.

"I'm not going back with you, Charlie. So _this _can't happen." His icy blue eyes looked right into hers. Serious. Measuring her reaction. "As much as it's been what I've wanted…for a long time now."

"What?" She still wasn't understanding…Why was he saying this?

"I thought I could do it, play the game with you, and then send you on your way. But I can't, Charlie." His words were soft.

"I'm _not _playing a game." She was starting now to feel the anger. _The rejection._

He smiled sadly down at her. He leaned in, pressing his lips to her head.

"Oh, yes. You are. But the problem is, I'm not. There's a lot of things I do that are fucked up and wrong. But when I give my heart, Charlie, I _give _it. I wish you and your Uncle understood that."

With that he turned, and picked up his shirt, slipping it on with his back to her. He retrieved his pistol, and the canteen from by the water.

"They'll be looking for me about now. You need to go. I don't want to have to kill Tom…yet." And he started away from her.

"Bass!" Charlie called, probably too loudly. She felt tears falling from her eyes. Flowing really. _This couldn't be happening. _He stopped, turning his face to her. His profile hidden in the shadows now. "Bass, please. Please don't go."

Her breath caught in a soft sob. How had this gone so fucking sideways? "Please, Bass…"

"Go back to Miles, Charlie. And keep your head up. Don't get hurt."

And he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2: WHY HE FOUND HER

WHY SHE FOLLOWED, CH.2

For the last two nights, while his son and his sometimes-enemy slept, he hardly did. He couldn't rid himself of Charlie…Her taste, the feel of her body under his on the banks of the stream, the sound of her voice and the challenge in her beautiful eyes.

_This is what I want now._

…And then the way she wept and called him back.

In all the time he'd known her, never had he heard her sound like that, or cry like that… Even after she killed Jason, she was quietly in shock, riding in the back of the wagon with Miles, for hours silent. Any tears she shed she did on her own. She was a tough girl, Charlie. In any other world, a girl like her would probably be too tough, too hard.

In _this _world, though… It was survival. She'd lost too much to not be tough. He'd always admired that about her. And now he couldn't help feeling like he'd broken something in her. _Why did he do that?_ Because _he _felt a little broken? He ran his hands through his hair, trying to rub the guilt away. _God, he could be such an asshole, sometimes._

But why the _fuck_ did he even give in and touch her, anyway? He was a grown-ass man. He's been able to hold himself back from her for a long time—partly because he didn't want to give Miles a justified reason to kill him, sure. But. _Also_.

He sat looking absently into the low flames of the campfire until his eyes became dry and he had to blink several times to stop the burn… The way he had to check himself so often when he would catch himself looking at Charlie. Watching her in her beautiful stillness, or her beautiful rage. She was fire and he didn't want the burn. Didn't need it.

Hadn't he been burnt enough by Matheson's in general?

Shit, between Miles, _that son of a bitch_, and Rachel… _Rachel_ , he shook his head bitterly at the fire. Her acting all this time like he was the devil she'd never opened her legs to, like he was somehow beneath her… As if she hadn't been beneath _him,_ moaning his name at least once. He smirked.

He never figured out why it happened, but he damn well knew it hadn't been his idea. Much as Rachel might want to forget it. And honestly, he wished he could forget it, himself. _The bitch._

And Miles. Part of him would really love to put it in Miles face that he had worked Rachel over like a rag-doll once upon a time… But he liked his jaw the way it was. And she'd only start whining that _she was his prisoner, blah blah blah…_

_You're gonna keep making the same brutal mistakes, and you're gonna keep pushing people away- or killing them—people who care about you. Because you haven't changed. _

His jaw and hands flexed in anger as he remembered what Miles said. But was he wrong? He wanted to think so… But then Miles face disappeared from his mind… and Charlie's was there. Again. _God-dammit._

Again, he recalled the feel of _finally _touching her. The memory made his face and hands relax again, the tension in him melt a little... It also made his stomach clinch in regret. He'd had one chance, after all these months with her, and he'd fucking blown it. He didn't even know why…

_You're gonna keep pushing people away._

He'd told Miles he was wrong. But then there he'd been with Charlie in his arms, Charlie clearly wanting him—_needing him_?— and what had he done? Told her how he felt? Told her she was the only purely beautiful thing he could see in this mad world, anymore? Told her how many nights he'd spent thinking about what it would be like if she were naked beside him, under the stars, and far away from everyone else?

Nope. That's not what he'd done. He lowered his head indo his hands and groaned. Miles _was_ right.

_Son of bitch._

…

_Go on back to Miles, _Bass had said, his back to her.

She did go back to Miles. After she'd calmed down. After she'd thought about going after him again, right into his little rebel camp with Tom and Conner, and beating the shit right out of him.

_After she stopped crying, like a little girl. _A _kid._

That part pissed her off the most. She had cried over Bass Monroe. In front of Bass Monroe! _What. The. Hell? _Thank all that was left Holy in this rotten world, that she had somehow managed to keep her stupid mouth mostly shut, and not spill her feelings like she'd spilled tears.

She didn't tell him. It hadn't gotten that far…She didn't tell him how she wished it had been him and not Connor. She didn't tell him how she had only wanted to touch him, _be_ with him, for months now. How she searched him out whenever she could, just to see him…She didn't tell him she dreamed at night about him inside her.

_Hell, no, she didn't_. He didn't deserve to know those things. Why? Because fuck him, that's why. He left her. And then he left her again. _Crying_.

_To hell with Sebastian Monroe, _Charlie told herself. Her mom and Miles were right about him. He was poison.

Charlie stopped her walk around the safe house perimeter, and listened to the silence of the woods. She looked up into the blue sky. Blue like his eyes…

_Stop it._

If she could just stop remembering the feel of his mouth on hers… That would be good. She hoped Miles came up with a plan of action soon, because she needed the distraction. Fighting was always a good one.

She headed to check out the barn, where she'd actually been rooming with the horses. Once, she'd gotten to stick her knife into the side of a horse thief…although she didn't kill him. Just scared the crap out of him. It had been fun anyway, she smiled to herself. She liked the smells, and she liked the fact that she didn't ever have to over-hear her mom and Miles going at it from out here. _No one needed to hear that. _

All was quiet, as expected. Good. She patted Sam, her favorite horse, on the head. "Hi, buddy. You mind keeping it down in here? I need a nap."

Charlie flopped herself down on her bedding, in the stall next to Sam's, grateful she wasn't allergic to hay. It really was comfortable. Or she'd just gotten very used to roughing it, maybe. She closed her eyes.

"Charlie."

She shot up with her gun in her hand, pointing at… Bass Monroe, crouching in the corner of her stall.

He put his hands up in front of him, fingers spread. "Don't."

Charlie just looked at him, too shocked to say anything. How in _the_ hell? He must have been waiting here…She would have heard him…

"Charlie, lower the gun." His voice was low, but she heard Sam kick around in his stall. She lowered the gun.

"_What are you doing here?_ I could have killed you." She shook her head, in disbelief, looking down at him in anger. _She could have killed him._

"I came back to tell Miles that Tom has a plan that might work. I wanted to give him a chance to join us…"

She squinted her eyes at him, putting her hands on her hips. "You liar."

"I'm not lying." Bass said, still not standing, but looking up into her face. She couldn't read his expression. He seemed to be studying her.

"Yes, you are. You know Miles wouldn't go along with any plan of Neville's. Please. What are you really doing here?" She pointed her gun at him again.

He knew the gun pointing was an empty threat, but he also knew he was found out. She did perhaps know him too well. He wasn't going to tell her he'd made contact with the remaining Militia kid so he'd know where to find them when he had information. She'd go running to Miles. Sure as shit then couldn't to tell her Connor offered to come make the contact… But. He'd wanted—_no needed_—to come.

He shrugged. "No, you're right. Miles won't listen. I realized that by the time I got here."

Charlie lowered the gun. The stall was not large, and he was closer to her than she was ready for after the other night. So many emotions were flooding her system she was having the rare experience of not knowing what to do next.

"So leave. You can leave now." She tried to sound hard. She wanted to replace any tearful memories he might have of her, with ones where she didn't give a shit. He needed to know she wasn't weak and stupid. _She needed to know she wasn't weak and stupid._

"I wanted to talk to you, too." He said, searching her face. His gravely smooth voice, still kept low.

Bass watched her. For a moment, Charlie just looked back at him. He could see how she tried to control her breathing…to appear calm. Cold. It made him want to charge her, knock her against the wall, shake her into dropping the guise… Maybe not the best move.

Watching her, he realized he wasn't leaving this barn without saying what he needed to say to her. He wasn't going to fuck it up again, lose the chance again. _He wasn't going to let Miles be right about him._

So when she went to rush past him and leave the stall, quick like a striking rattle snake, he reached out and grabbed hold of her legs, coming up on his knees, and wrapping his arms around her thighs... He buried his face into her abdomen. He didn't have a plan. He just couldn't let her go again.

Charlie froze in his grip. She looked down in wondering confusion at the top of his head. His strong arms held her tight around her thighs and ass. She felt his rough beard and breathing against her stomach.

"Charlotte." He sounded like he was praying her name. He held her tighter, and she felt one of his hands on her bare skin above her jeans. Warm.

_What the hell is going on?_ Her mind raced to make sense of it all.

Neither of them moved. He just knelt there before her, holding her, breathing her in, and she stood still trying to make her heart stop trying to beat its way outside her chest. She watched as her own hand came to rest on his head, as if checking that he was real.

Without thinking she spoke, slowly. The words coming at their own volition, because her mind seemed to be floating somewhere above this surreal moment, looking down on them.

"You asked me why…why Connor…"

He shook his head against her. "I don't care. I don't."

"It's because he's so much _like_ you… But he's _not _you."

Bass huffed out a hot, tortured breath into her skin. Her other hand came up to his head, and her fingers petted his hair, hesitantly. He shuddered.

"But, what I figured out… Was _he's not_ _you_. He's not. He's not-"

Bass stood then, halting her words with his mouth.

…

They lay in the hay, both still breathing hard. Sweaty. Spent.

_Peaceful_, thought Bass. When was the last time he felt even close to peaceful? He couldn't remember. His hand found hers in the hay. He wished they could just lay there forever…

"I wish we could just lay here forever." She said. He turned to see her perfect profile, and her wild hair all around her head in the hay. She was so goddamned beautiful. He smiled sadly.

"Me, too." She turned her face to him, too. She took in his sad smile, but noticed his soft eyes. He hardly ever had such soft eyes… They just looked, their naked chests rising and falling in pace. The sounds of the horses and the subtly changing light… It was a world apart, Bass felt.

A small, fragile world, just for them. Just for a moment.

"What now?" she asked.

"I don't know." He admitted. He rolled onto his side, and reached to stroke her face.

"You're going back. To Connor and Tom. And your _plan._" She stated. She looked directly into his eyes. Tough, thought Bass. She was so damn tough and strong.

"Yeah." He nodded. He wouldn't lie to her now. She took hold of his hand on her cheek, and kissed his fingertips.

"Yeah." She said.

They both knew she couldn't go with him. First of all, there was Tom. Nothing needed to be said about _that_ problem. Then there was the fact that she wouldn't just leave Miles… Like he did. She didn't do things without thinking it through. Like he did. Bass sighed from deep in his chest.

_She'd been right. They were better all together._ Now it was too late. Now—he watched her lips on his fingertips, making his breathing hitch—now, _this_ had finally happened… and it was too late.

She came to straddle him. The dusty sun floated and played around her, lit up her hair and skin like a fucking angel. He gazed at her, this girl… She _was_ just a girl… A girl probably too beautiful for him to have any right to touch—with his body _or _his questionable soul.

He ran his hands slowly down her silky, long arms to her hands on his chest. He looked up into her eyes, as she lifted her hips and sucked air through her teeth when he slid himself, again, blessedly, inside her warmth. Neither of them speaking.

Not speaking about him going back.

Not speaking about the world outside the barn.

Not speaking of the shift that was happening. A shift as big and might as the power going out on the whole damn world.

There was no use in words, now.

…


	3. Chapter 3:LOST WITHOUT HER

He left before dark.

Charlie stayed in the hay where he left her, staring up at the shadows creeping into the stall, thinking about what just happened between them. She recalled every touch, every grace of skin, every feathering of lips.

The first time had been passionate and hard and rough, as if each of them could somehow forget and undo every moment they had denied themselves- and each other—with the sheer intensity of how they fell into one another now. Charlie hadn't had that many lovers, it was true, but still this had been something she didn't imagine… The _power _of him… The feel of his hands, his lips, the somewhat wild look in his eyes… His skin against her skin, and his hardness inside her…

The experience had been over-whelming. Thinking about it made her heart race. And then the second time had been so different, but no less over-whelming. Only it was over-whelming in how easy, slow, and tender it had been… _So god-damned tender._ That kind of sex was something she'd never had before… It had almost been too much for her.

In this life Charlie hadn't had too much tenderness. How very unexpected it had been.

She didn't think many people would believe how tender Sebastian Monroe could be. She might not have believed it, if the truth of it was not still lingering on her skin… If she could not close her eyes and still see his, sky blue and vulnerable, before her. So unlike the man he was most of the time, it was hard to rectify the two sides she now knew.

"_Charlotte, I said once I gave my heart, I gave it."_ He had said only hours before, as he leaned over her body in filtered, waning sunlight. She closed her eyes now and put her hand to her own cheek, where he had stroked it with the back of his own.

"_I'm not sure what to say to that…" _what did it mean when a man like this gives his heart?

"_Don't say anything. Just know it." _He'd said.

_And don't break it, _he hadn't said.

…But he needn't, because Charlie, ever observant, could see it clearly written in his unguarded eyes. She'd thought of how she'd watched him all this time struggling with how he loved Miles, and struggling with how his actions put distance and strain—_to say the least_—between him and, well… _every_one. She thought about how much he'd really lost when the world changed- his woman, his child, then later his only friend. _And her mother would argue_, his delicate hold on his own humanity.

Charlie sighed into the now dark barn. She couldn't deny how ruthless she knew him to be. So she was unsure about how to _feel _about how she _felt._ Because there was also no more denying _she felt._ She felt so much. Try as she might to untangle the feelings—the confusion and doubt about him from the _need for_ him, it was no good.

And no one would understand, she realized, running her hands over her forehead. They would all think she'd lost her damn mind.

_Maybe she did_. But then, she thought… Everyone she knew was a little crazy. Who wouldn't be? Everyone she loved either helped _literally_ end the whole fucking world as it had been, or had ended it personally for some unfortunate soul along the way. Including herself- she was no saint… They were _all _crazy, and desperate, and forever trying to gain control over the uncontrollable. What was so different from Bass, then?

Was it that he had a harder time pretending to be good? Were any of them—Miles, her mom, hell even Aaron and his strange wife—were _any_ of them _really_ good anymore? She wondered if she had _ever_ been good. As far back as she could remember, she'd been pissed off and ready to knock somebody in the mouth, just to feel better…

_He kissed her so softly. He looked at her face and held it in his hands with so much gentleness, searching her eyes as if he could find something…something long lost to him. _

"_You know what? I have thought so many times of what it would be like to just be with you, just far away from everything, just with you." He admitted._

_She smiled and touched his lips with her fingers and her gaze. "You've thought about me like that?" She'd tried to sound teasing, but couldn't manage it…Could she admit how she'd thought about him?_

"_You are my favorite place to go, when my mind searches for peace, Charlotte." He told her, seriously and so quietly. Her fingers stilled their touch, and she lifted her gaze to his eyes. She could hardly breathe…_

"_Away from everything." She repeated thoughtfully. "Ok."_

"_Ok?" He smiled, crookedly._

"_Ok. Don't go back. We'll just go away. We'll go away from everything, just us. I've always wanted to see Montana..." For a moment he didn't answer, and his smile faded into a wistfulness that made her heart hurt._

And of course he went back. As she'd known he would. This is the life they live… They fight. He fights, she fights, they all fight. Like the gang of crazy people they were, fighting for reasons she could hardly remember.

She still wished they were fighting together.

…

Several times Bass toyed with the idea of turning around. Then when he was too far along to convince himself he could do it, he played what-if games in his head as he hiked… _What if he did go away with her? What if they went somewhere far away, where no one even knew General Monroe and every sin he'd committed? Where even_ he_ could forget?_

_What if he quit fighting, gave up everything he'd promised Connor they'd get back, and just…went away with Charlie? Where even Miles and Rachel couldn't bother them, or talk her out of him? _

…_What if he could not _be_ this person anymore? Could he find his way back to the man he used to want to be? A long, long time ago he only wanted to be the kind of man who loved a woman. The kind of man who wanted to raise children…and live a quiet life?_

The idea of children with Charlie made him stop in his tracks and stare at the dark ground, as if he could see it all there. Another life.

He shook the nonsense from his head, and laughed ruefully at himself under his breath. _Shit man, you have lost it._

A small feeling of dread arose when he remembered some of the things he had told her. _Admitted _to her.

_Shit_. _Who was he to accuse Miles of forgetting who he was over a woman?_ He could so easily do it for a girl anyone in the world would know wasn't a good idea.

"_Charlotte, remember I said once I gave my heart, I gave it_." He'd told her. The moment had been so private, and so intense between them, but he wondered if she knew how serious he was? And he wondered how it was he'd come to give his heart to Charlotte Matheson, of all the damn women in the world. Because it was clear he had.

_His hands on her breasts, her heated breath on his skin… Her body gripping him, coming in waves around him and her cries against his mouth…_

Bass had to stop and lean over, his hands on his thighs, suddenly needing to catch his breath. It wasn't the hike; it was Charlie. Just the memory of her undid him.

At that moment he knew he didn't give a husky fuck what anyone thought, or said, or did. He had to be with her again, and _he would_. He would make that happen one way or another.

Because along with the memory of her, came a deep anxiety that he was _away from her_. Like he felt when he left her for that short time at the schoolhouse, and had to turn back to fight with her, to _protect_ her. He remembered how he'd felt sitting by her that night he'd rescued her from the bar, and the sick pricks who'd drugged her, just waiting for her to wakeup and say anything to let him know she was ok.

_Oh God._ He thought. _If anything happened to her…_

Bass didn't know what it was he was feeling then—or else he wasn't ready to admit it. But today he knew Charlie had touched whatever small part of him… wasn't _hope_less.

_If anything happened to her…_

There would be no hope for him.

…

Those were the thoughts flying wildly through his mind after he and Miles took down that fucking bastard, Neville.

Neville, who clearly thought it had been _Miles_ Bass was so desperate to save from his gun and murderous intent. He had no idea how Bass's heart dropped when he saw that gun pointed at Charlie, or how glad he was that Miles stood between. Had Miles moved an inch, Bass would have shot him himself, and that was the damn truth.

Then, once Neville crumpled on the ground Bass would have stomped him to death right there in the dirt by the train… If he could have only made his eyes leave Charlie's. But he couldn't. His eyes couldn't leave hers. He wanted to race to her and scoop her up in his arms and crush her to him… But he couldn't move, and he couldn't speak. Not in front of all of them. It made him want to scream.

Then, when Miles got it into his head to race off and save the day, be the damn hero again- and she had _jumped up into the wagon_… He wanted to scream again.

"What are you gonna do, you're gonna run straight into a thousand tons of mustard gass?" He demanded, angry. His eyes raked from Miles to Charlie. What the hell was wrong with Miles? What the hell was wrong with that girl, willing to toss all her chips in for people she didn't even know!

_No. She could not do this. He wouldn't let her._

Not without him.

So he'd left Connor to his choice, even though it pissed him right off… But he couldn't think of that now. All he could think of was not letting Charlie be in danger again, and away from him.

Bass sat with his back against the wagon seat where Charlie sat. They went off into the dark night, and what was sure to be a painfully shocking experiment in heroics… He didn't know what the fuck was going to happen, but he knew it wasn't going to happen to her without him. Not for a moment.

Stars were the only light as wagon bumped along as fast as the horses could pull it, with none of them speaking. _All busy pondering their death, no doubt. _Bass scowled into the dark. He _would _figure out a way to get her out of this clusterfuck. Miles, too, if he could…

As if reading his mind, he felt her hand reaching down behind the seat she sat on, brushing his shoulder. He reached up and gripped it in his own hand. It was too dark for anyone to see where he sat by the side of wagon, not that he even cared anymore. Just her touch brought him back to himself. Focused his determination.

He turned his face into the fist they made, closing his eyes against the wave of emotion that swept him. He kissed her hand silently, hard and sure. He took a deep, shuttering but quiet breath. She squeezed, and she rubbed her thumb along his rough cheek.

The wagon rode on, and they spoke in the silent language of covert touch under the night sky.

_He would be hopeless without her. _

He might be crazy—this might all be _just fucking crazy_! But Bass was done with feeling hopeless. He wouldn't be without her again, and as soon as he could, he would tell her so.

…

**Tell me what you think so far…But I'm not done!**


	4. Chapter 4: DON'T CALL ME KID

He stayed glued to her side, fighting along side her, not letting her out of his sights. And he couldn't help thinking, not for the first time, how fucking _brilliant_ she was. Her aim with her crossbow was spectacular and deadly accurate. Her instincts spot on. Even in the rush of battle, she amazed him, this girl.

As tough as she was, though, he wanted her _out_ of there.

When they came across Marion, the old doctor's pain had been so raw Bass couldn't take it. It hit too close to home, was too much a reminder of how close they all were to finding their end, of losing everything— _Charlie_\- and those thoughts had no place in battle.

Bass met her eyes, and saw she knew it too. She gently urged her grandfather on. There was no time for mourning now.

_Goddamn, he needed her out of this. _

…

The rest of them made it back to the safe house in the early morning hours, and found Rachel and Aaron nursing his weird wife. There was little talk in the room, other than Miles recounting the fiasco to Rachel in hushed tones. Distracted and still too amped up, Bass found himself not able to stand being in the same room with Gene and his grief. It was too close, and too familiar.

He needed air.

Outside by the far side of the barn he waited for her, in the still dim dawn light. And when she came, only minutes later that felt like years, and wordlessly walked into his arms… he _finally_ felt he got the air he needed. He held her tightly, and breathed in her solid aliveness. _Charlie_.

_Fuck._ He thought. Everything was different now. It scared him how different. He grabbed her arms and pulled her away to look intensely into her eyes.

"Charlie, what the _hell _were you thinking jumping into that mess?" He struggled to keep his voice from rising in anger.

She cocked her head at him, her confusion at his tone giving way to her own anger. "Mess? You mean saving innocent lives? _That _mess?"

"You are _not_ invincible! I know Miles acts like he is, and you are, and we are all here to just lay down our fucking lives in payment for all our wrongs—but _he's wrong_! And you are not invincible any more than that Marion was!"

Charlie shook herself out of his grip, and glared at him.

"I know that." She said, her voice level.

"I don't think so. I don't think you do know that. You follow Miles into anything—"

"So do you." She said. He took hard controlled breaths, wanting to deny her words.

_I didn't sign up for a suicide mission_, Connor's last words played in his mind.

"It's different."

"How?" she challenged.

"This time I went for you, dammit. Not him. _You_."

Her face softened at his words. She looked briefly away, as if she could find a retort written on the paint-chipped barn wall behind him.

"Bass." Was all she came up with… His name whispered in the dawn.

The angry charge in the air around them seemed to turn. Charlie stepped forward, and pushed him against the barn wall, and he instantly had her up in his arms again. Their lips crashed together.

All of his feelings that had been threatening to take him down all night, from the moment he saw that gun pointed at her, finally boiled over. He couldn't_ take_ _another moment_ of space between them. His hands reached down and pulled her jeans apart, and roughly pushed them down her legs. She kicked them off one leg as he turned them so she was the one against the barn wall.

Her hands pulled his jeans open, and found him throbbing with need of her, silky and hard. She sighed a soft sigh that drove him mad. Wordlessly he lifted her, and her long legs wrapped around him, her arms around his neck, their lips still moving against one another… Just like in battle, they needed no words to move together.

His hands gripped her ass, and he shoved home into her wetness, hard, claiming her with a primal grunt from deep within his chest. She cried out into his mouth, and he sound was like a song he hadn't heard in years.

…

It wasn't the tenderness of their last encounter. It was something else… It was something needy and hard and full of the pent up stress and fear from the night.

And it was exactly what Charlie wanted. _Holy shit, this man…_

Her mind reeled with him, her body shook and trembled, and she only wanted him _deeper_. She rocked against him. She wanted every inch of him, as rough as he could give it. She wanted to feel only him, know only him and forget everything else—_and he made her forget_. The fear and tension, the sadness… She bit down on his neck when she came, and muffled her cry with his salty flesh.

Bass pulled away and crushed his lips to her mouth in a punishing kiss as he came with her, jerking up into her with deep moans and powerful thrusts, sure he was bruising her back against the barn wall but unable to help himself… He doubted he'd ever be able to help himself again.

They both went still.

Their eyes open and close, their lips slowly pulling apart… Finally he pulled out and set her down on her shaking legs. She unsteadily stepped back into her pants. He tucked himself back in, and helped her zip back up. She felt his fingers trembling a little.

The sun was rising now, lifting whatever spell had come over them with the yellow light of a clear morning. He leaned in, gently this time, and kissed her swollen lips, his hand soft on her neck. When he pulled away, he rested his head against hers, his eyes closed.

"Things… things are different." He said.

"Yes." She nodded against him.

"I need you to know something..." She waited, unsure of what he would say. Unsure if she could understand this thing between them.

"I need to go look for Connor. But I'm going to come back—with or without him-Hopefully with him… And I'll kill Tom, so he can't ever try to hurt you… And then I'm not leaving you again, Charlie."

His eyes were the color of the morning sky. His tone was matter-of-fact. Charlie felt like the ground under her feet might give way, and knew… In the middle of war and death and chaos, she had fallen in love with exactly the wrong man.

_She had fallen in love with Sebastian Monroe. _

And was he… was he telling her…?

"I'm in love with you, Matheson." He smiled a roughish smile and shrugged, shaking his head at the insane truth of it. Then, "I'm sorry, kid."

A burst of sudden laughter came from her, and she covered her mouth with her hand. She looked at him, and shook her head at him.

"Don't call me 'Kid'. "


	5. Chapter 5: THINGS SHE UNDERSTOOD

When Bass returned from his hunt for Connor, his mood was dark. Very dark.

"No luck?" Asked Miles upon seeing his face.

"The hells it look like? Kids out there in the wind. With Neville. What could possibly go wrong?"

Charlie swallowed a sour ball of guilt, knowing it was because of her he left Connor. Kneeling by her grandfather across the room, she studied Bass's face. But he didn't seem to want to meet her eyes. He was giving off a palpable aura of frustration and anger. A very _Monroe-like_ frustration and anger.

Then Joe and the woman returned, and it took Bass and the rest one second to see that things had not gone their way. And one more second before he exploded.

"You gotta be kidding me, right? Those idiots are going to war _any_way? That whole hero act, it was all just for nothing. I abandoned …my _kid… _for _nothing._" His words made Charlie's gut clinch.

"You saved a couple hundred people." Her mom reminded him. But it somehow didn't feel supportive. Charlie looked at her, and just wished she'd shut up, even though she herself had said almost the same thing to him that morning.

"They're dead anyway, Rachel." He answered, bitterly. Charlie stood and listened as he laid out the facts of how it was all going to go from here on out. The facts of just how fucked the situation was, in that voice that told them all how stupid they had been to think it could've gone any other way. A voice, Charlie could hear clearly regretted not doing things his way. And she hated to admit it…but maybe he'd been right.

"Well, the Presidents still in Willoughby. And we're gonna _get_ that son-of-a-bitch, and we're gonna take him out _right _now." He finished, decidedly. Daring them to argue. Charlie's eyes slid to Miles.

"We'll stop him." Miles stated.

"Oh_, how_? When it comes to _acts of congress_, Texas doesn't take mulligans, Miles." Bass challenged.

… So Miles laid out the plan, and they all listened. Bass made his way to stand closer to her while Miles spoke. He was close enough to reach out and touch… but still far away. He was so far away at that moment from the man he was this morning. The one who said in a helplessly sweet voice, that he'd fallen in love with her. That man was not in the room.

She could see his jaw working, she could feel his anger still sitting in him like a firecracker ready to blow—but he stayed quiet, and listened to the plan. He listened to the plan, and he listened when Miles tossed in a little pep talk, too.

"We're doing this for Marion, and Jason, and everyone these son-of-a-bitches hurt—"

"You know who makes speeches like that? People who are about to die." Came Bass, cutting in.

Charlie sighed.

She might have fallen in love behind her own back… She wasn't in love with an optimist.

…

Everyone moved to prepare, and Bass smoothly grabbed her hand and tugged. He nodded his head toward the barn before letting it go. Charlie looked around to see if anyone had noticed, before stepping out the door, knowing he'd be close behind her.

Minutes later they stood in the stall where they'd just days ago tried to forget what life was really like. The light and time of day was the way, but everything else was so different.

"This is an asinine idea. A total waste of time." He said, grimly. They both looked at the hay, where they'd made love, and not at each other. They stood just inches apart, but did not touch.

"Then why go?" She asked. He tilted his head and shrugged. Shook his head.

"…_Fucking_ Miles." He answered, almost under his breath. She nodded. _Yep._ _These two men were a pair, alright. And she was more in the middle now more than ever._

"If I asked you not to go, would you come with me? Blow this kidnapping bullshit off, and try it my way?" He looked at her. She could feel his gaze, and hear the seriousness in his offer. She dared not to look back when shook her head.

"Nope." She set her mouth, eyes on the hay.

"_Goddamnit_, Charlotte!" He blew, coming around to stand in front of her, so she had to look at him. "This is a fools errand, do you hear me? We have no idea if this will work, if Gene can even _get_ Texas to listen!"

"We don't know we can't." She said, finally meeting his gaze. Her voice was calm, like her mother's—which she hated. "I think it's worth a try."

"Of course you do. Because you and Miles—_you are just alike_!"

She scowled at him. He thought she was like Miles, not Rachel? Good. "Is that some sort of accusation?"

"Fine!" He hollered at her so loudly, she was sure the others would hear him. Sam startled and snorted in his stall. Bass didn't seem to care. He threw his arms up in frustration, and paced away from her. "Goddamit, _fine_!"

She didn't know what that meant…She watched him, his back to her now. The barn was quiet, except for the sound of Sam stomping the ground and snorting next door. No one came to check on her, so she guessed no one had heard him yell but the horses, after all. That was good, because she wasn't ready to explain…_this. Them. No yet._

_If ever_, she thought darkly. If he was right, they might never have to explain anything to anyone… Or maybe he'd just go. Maybe that was what he meant, and he was trying to tell her he wasn't going to go along with this _asinine plan, _as he called it. She recalled his words about Conner being out there somewhere with Tom…About his _abandoning him_ for _nothing._

She steeled herself for his words. He said he wouldn't leave her, but he was going to… She could feel it.

_Stupid. You're so stupid, Charlie._ She thought. _This is Sebastian Monroe. What did you expect?_

She watched him breath out a heavy breath and lower his head, hands on his hips. Then he turned and strode across the stall to her in two steps, and had her face in his both his hands. He spoke urgently, his voice extra gravely with stern emotion.

"Ok, look. Listen to me, then. You will _not_ take a single chance with your life, do you understand?" She was so taken aback she couldn't answer him. His eyes stared intently and his hands, she noticed, were faintly shaking against her face.

"I have already lost _enough_. I have lost _enough_, do you understand? I lost Connor— and I'm not losing _you._ Do you hear me? Do you _hear_ me, Charlotte?"

"I'm sorry, "she stumbled over whispered words, finding she couldn't make her voice work in the face of his emotion, "I'm sorry you left Connor for me—"

At that he brought her face to his, his lips down on hers…softer than she expected. So gently he touched her. She wondered how he could contain so much tenderness and so much hardness in the same person. It felt dangerous…and it felt too familiar.

Then, his voice almost breaking, he told her, "Shut up. Just… Shut up, Charlie, ok? Just… _Promise me._ You stay by me. You take no chances."

He pulled her into his hard chest, his hands in her hair, and she nodded. He felt him nod in return.

They could hear footsteps approaching, and then her Grandfather's voice. He was coming for a horse; The plan was going into action. They stepped away from one another, and Bass stood against the wall… But their eyes stayed locked.

_This thing is bigger than me._ Charlie found herself thinking… _This thing between us… _And it scared the shit out of her, she realized. It scared her more than gunshots, and more than blood or battle.

Those were things she understood.

…

It had been surprisingly easy to take the bastard.

Of course it was. No one was really a match for he and Miles when they put their heads and skills together, when they fought together—it was just as Bass was always saying. So of course it had been easy.

But this part of the plan was never what Bass doubted. It was the next parts, and honestly- he didn't want to deal with it. He just wanted to shoot this fucker, and be done with all of it. Let the chips fall. Take whatever small sliver of a chance there was to get the hell out before all hell broke loose, and it was too late.

_Maybe take off with Charlie to Montana… _That's what she'd said. _I've always wanted to see Montana._

Then the shots started flying, and they were lucky to find shelter from the waylay. Bass instinctually sought out Charlie, finding her crouched down several feet from him, unable to get a shot off with her bow. _For christsake just stay down_ he thought at her.

…Then he saw the President. Still gagged and tied, he was closest to Bass, the others to the right of them and focused on the direction of the assault… No one else was near the bastard.

_It would be so easy to just shoot him. _What could Miles say? He got shot in the chaos. The world is better for it. Bass felt like time slowed down, like bullets even moved in slow motion… It would be so easy. So satisfying.

More and more Patriots came. Over the hill they came into view on horseback, thundering down on them. Bass looked at Charlie still hunkered down, looked at Miles and Rachel firing in vain. He looked back at the hostage.

_This was all _his_ fault. This asshole needed to die before they did. _Bass met the mans eyes, thoughtfully cold. He thought maybe he saw recognition of the facts looking back at him, when the other mans eyes widened. Bass nodded faintly at him.

"Bass!" Miles called, breaking his attention then. "Take him and go. I'll hold 'em off. Meet me later. Take him!"

Bass looked at Miles. _Was he serious? _

Miles shook his head and shrugged, as the bullets bounced off rock and flew through the trees around them. "I'm trusting you."

In an instant Bass made up his mind. He motioned at the hostage with his gun, before turning back to call for Charlie. Quick as the fox he was, the President got up and ran, putting too much distance between he and Bass.

"Shit!" Bass cursed, with one last desperately frustrated glance at Charlie, and one more call she couldn't hear over the shooting, he saw had to go after him or they would lose him.

_Just stay by me._ His own words to her rang in his head over the noise of battle as he gave chase.

_Now, he really was going to kill this asshole._

…


	6. Chapter 6: MR SUNSHINE

"I know what you're thinkin'." Miles said out of nowhere, as they hiked.

"No. You don't know what I'm thinking." Said her mom.

"Don't worry. Bass will be there. _With_ the President." He said.

"Ok. So you know what I'm thinking." Came her mom's sardonic reply.

…Charlie wasn't so sure.

For hours after they fled the firefight, she had been trying to get over the shock of him not being there. For hours she struggled with the stunning fact that he _took_ the President—_and_ the wagon—and _left_ them.

_Her. He left her_.

She should have known. She should have known it was all bullshit. All his pretty words of staying together, of not getting hurt, of needing her to be safe… Just _bullshit_ words in the face of his revenge fantasies. Bass Monroe lived for revenge.

_She should have known._

Charlie felt so dumb. Like a dumb, love-sick little girl… She walked steadily behind Miles and her mom, blinking back the rage that stupidly kept wanting to manifest in the form of hot tears. She focused on the ground, and wiped at her face furiously at the slightest drip. She swore at herself.

_Dammit! Suck it up, buttercup. _

And she swore _to _herself. If she ever saw him again, she would _not_ let him lay a hand on her. Never. Never again. No matter what.

_His hands on her face, trembling with emotion… _ How could he fake that? How did he do it? She could only imagine he must have believed it, himself. He believed his own bullshit. _Wonderful_—it didn't make a bit of difference—because in the heat of it, when it mattered? He left her. Just like he left her at the school.

_He came back right away._ Her traitorous mind pointed out.

Miles suddenly turned to her, interrupting her raging thoughts. "You spent weeks with him, just you two? He comes through, right? Sometimes?"

Charlie took in her uncle's dark eyes, and could see he was trying to hold onto hope. For whatever reason, whatever the twisted up mess that was Monroe and Matheson…Miles wanted to believe in Bass now. But Charlie was in no mood to coddle such hopes.

"I think he's unpredictable. He sucker punched us, and tried to steal our train." Not what Miles wanted to hear—but true, Charlie realized as the words left her mouth. It was so true, and it felt good to say it. Bass Monroe _was_ unpredictable… And she needed to pull her heart back in before it was way to late to save herself.

"He also followed me into a cloud of mustard gas." Miles replied, heated. She could see him working his thoughts out in the moment… and was surprised at where they landed.

"You all want me to have faith? Hope, right?" He looked back and forth between the two women. "A little sunshine comin' out my ass? I've known him longer than anybody. I'm choosing to have faith in him, now."

Rachel seemed unmoved, but his words hit Charlie in the gut. _Miles had faith in him_. Cynically, she wondered if that would matter to Bass? Somehow, it mattered to her, although she fought to stay hard against it.

_You stay with me._ She kept hearing him like a drumbeat.

…They walked on for a while, before stopping to rest and fill their canteens in a clear stream. Miles and her mom had quit talking of Bass, thank god… But Charlie still moved down stream a little to find a few moments to splash water on her face and collect her thoughts. The sun was setting, causing the water to turn dark and fathomless in the deeper parts.

Charlie was tempted to step in and drown herself.

"What's going on with you?"

She didn't turn around, because she didn't hear him approach and she wasn't sure her face wouldn't give her every thought away. Miles had a way of looking into her…

_You and Miles are just alike! _

Instead she shook her head, and kneelt down to the waters edge, dipping her canteen. "Not a thing in the world."

She could feel him watching her, but she hoped he would get it, and leave her the hell alone.

"Nope. Something's up." He pressed, looking harder. As if he had all the time in the damn world to annoy her. _Mr. Sunshine out his ass _couldn't take a hint.

"Well, I don't know Miles. I mean, everything is going _so well_, lately. What could be wrong?" She tried for petulance. He hated petulance.

When he didn't leave, she decided to. Keeping her face turned down, she moved to go back to Rachel and the main trail. Miles reached out and grabbed her sleeve… He looked at her closely. She signed heavily, threw her head back and studied the treetops.

"Ok, what the fuck, Charlie? Something has been off about you for days."

"I don't know what to tell you, Miles."

"For days, ever since…" He fell off. Something shifted in his stance. She felt him tense. _Crap._ "Ever since you went to find Bass." He finished.

They stood in silence, and Charlie was positive her heartbeat was surely louder than the water rippling by them and the breeze rustling the leaves... Miles finally rolled his head to the side like a beaten ragdoll and let out an exasperated groan. He quickly looked again over her shoulder and up the trail to see how close Rachel was, then pulled her sleeve hard, finally succeeding in jerking her attention to his very, very serious face.

"Charlie. No."

She opened her mouth to deny it…and then closed it. _Who fucking cared, anyway?_ She thought. Charlie raised her brows and chin meeting his dark eyes.

"Aww, _Charlie! No. No! _Are you kidding me right now?"

"Miles. Just calm down." She was so tired. She couldn't have this conversation now. And they had at least another hour or more to hike to get to the rendezvous.

"I'm sorry, _calm down?_ How—" He caught his voice rising and checked for Rachel again. "—_how _in_ the _ever-loving hell am I supposed to be _calm _right now, Charlie? I've had a long, shitty day! I'm _trying _to have a good attitude! And _now_ I'm going to have to kill my oldest friend before your mother does!"

"If he shows." She said. A knot sat in her gut, but she met his gaze.

Miles dropped her sleeve, and took a steady breath. "He will show."

He was still so sure. Having faith, and all that… Suddenly, the hot tears were welling again and before she could turn away, Miles saw exactly how it was. She was beyond frustrated and embarrassed.

_This is just wonderful._ She thought, furiously wiping at her face. But it was too late. She heard Miles breath out a long sigh from behind her.

"Shit Charlie. Shit."

"Yeah. Shit." She agreed.

Miles stepped up, and threw his heavy arm around her shoulder. He squeezed. They watched the water for a few minutes…

Then, "How did this happen, Charlie? He's… _too old_ for you."

Charlie looked at him with her brow raised in disbelief, "Oh really, Miles? _That's_ the problem with this?"

Miles swayed his head a little and tried- and failed- to keep the look of utter discomfort off his face. "There are really _so_ many things wrong with this, kid. _So many_ things."

"Yeah. Like I said. _Shit_…" She said quietly. At least she quit crying. Thank God for small miracles.

"How far has it… _gone_ between you?" He asked, like he didn't really want to know. She could _hear_ the cringe in his voice. Charlie chose to answer him with her silence and the hard line of her mouth, eyes on the water. It was better that way.

Miles let the answer settle in. "Yeah. I'm gonna kill him." He finally said simply.

"It wasn't only him—"

"I _so don't_ need to hear this." He cut her off, holding up his other hand like a stop sign.

They stood there like that for a few moments, just letting the reality sit. Charlie thought this was actually the last thing Miles had expected out of the day- or her, for that matter. What ever happened to the simple things, like taking down a government dictatorship, she mused?

Then she remembered she was in love with an ex-dictator. _Super_… Maybe she'd let Miles kill Bass. Or at least beat his ass—_if_ they ever saw him again.

"Do you really think he'll show? Why would he run off with a man he wants to kill, and then ever come back to face the music?" Something in her hopeless tone made Miles look at her.

"Hey," He turned her chin to see her eyes. "Hey. Look… I asked him to go. He didn't really _run off_ with him, exactly."

"What?" She was confused. She looked back at him, doubtful. And god, why was he on such a pro-Monroe kick today? Couldn't he see she was trying to save herself some heartache?

"It had to be done. And I might be crazy, fine. But I think he'll show. I do." He coughed, and cleared his voice. "Especially… now."

He looked meaningfully at her from under his thick brows, clearly not comfortable with the reason. Then, shaking his head and almost under his breathe he added, "That asshole never ceases to amaze me…"

Charlie let it all settle over her… It wasn't what she thought, but she was still hesitant to allow relief. _Not until he shows_.

"Hey you two. Lets move." They heard Rachel call from the trail.

"Don't say—"

"I'd keep this—" They both began at the same time. Miles smirked.

"Yeah. Lets just… Keep this quiet for now, huh?" He finished.

…


	7. Chapter 7: ENJOY THE TORTURE

Bass had been shot more than once in his life—both before the blackout and after. He'd been stabbed. He'd gotten the shit kicked out of him more times than he could even remember. And _oh, yeah_—He'd also been injected with poison and _died_…more or less.

He'd been whipped at length by his own son.

This hurt more. He could have taken a thousand more lashes from Connor, and have it hurt less. To look into his own sons face and realize he'd grown to hate him somehow, and in such a short amount of time? At least hate him enough to step back out of the way and allow other men to try and kill him.

The wagon moved along at a quick pace, with his piece of shit cargo tied up in the back. The President had finally quit moaning from the swift elbow to the face he'd gotten for making putting his ass in the wagon bed harder than it needed to be. Bass was in _no mood_ for his crap. His mind was swimming in numbness, and his gut felt sick with the memory of what had just happened.

Because Connor had been right; They should just have killed this shithead. He just…couldn't.

Bass knew he couldn't say anything to Connor yet about Charlie, about how things had changed for them. It was certainly not the time or place. But it was when he tried to explain about _Miles_ that Connor shut down before his eyes. He'd tried to explain it as best he could.

_He trusted me. I don't know how else to say it._

I_ trusted you. I threw my life away _for you_! And Miles? He's not _your blood_. I am. I'm your son. _

…It was strange how fast it happened, so Bass realized it must not have been fast at all. The feelings, the pain reflected in Connor's eyes and in his voice. No. It must have been building in him. It must have been there and somehow he'd missed it. How could he have missed it?

That brand of pain was so familiar to Bass it made his heart hitch. It was the pain of rejection. It was the pain of seeing yourself as alone in the world. _But that wasn't right, goddamnit_!

_You promised me a future_ Connor accused, his liquid dark eyes that were so like his mothers, had been alight with anger and disappointment that was pure Monroe.

_I'm gonna give it to you. Please Connor! I promise you._

He _tried _to make Connor understand, _tried _to grab him—_reach _him- with his few paltry words to make him understand a history that he himself didn't always understand. A history that often caused in him the same look in his eyes… But no. Bass could see it happening, he could see this son he hardly knew—but suddenly knew how _like him_ Connor really was- slipping away from him within moments.

_Your word…doesn't mean piss!_

Moments later he was dodging bullets.

It was only pure blind fucking luck that he was able to get away with the President. And it was with regret he locked Connor away with Neville. The last thing he wanted was to give Neville more time to talk his poison into Connor's ear, and turn his own son even more against him. But he had no choice.

_He just had no choice_ right now! He was going to see this through. He was taking the President back to Miles. And he was getting back to Charlie. And then?

He'd figure the rest out… because just like Miles and Charlie, he'd given his heart to Connor, too. So he'd figure it out if it killed him.

…

"He'll show."

Miles had just said it, when they heard the wagon coming. Charlie was not prepared for the way the common sound of an approaching wagon would make her heart soar. She had to make herself not jump down off the porch and run to meet him.

She didn't think she'd ever seen anything as beautiful as his figure cloaked in darkness and moonlight. _Showing. _

And with a _living _President, just like Miles said… Charlie cut her eyes to Miles. He'd been right about Bass, and she felt good for him. She felt good for both of them.

"Any Problems?" Miles asked.

"Nothing I couldn't handle." Charlie frowned at his answer. Something in his voice told her the truth. Then when her mom thanked him, there was _no_ sarcastic reply, _no_ moment of satisfaction at proving her wrong, not even a nasty smirk…

Something wasn't right. Rachel went into the church with Bass quietly looking after her.

Then their eyes met and held.

Charlie felt the same explosion of hot, confusing emotions she felt when he showed up in her barn stall, before the first time they were together.

_I think he's unpredictable_. That's what she'd said to Miles, and the fact that he showed up just like Miles said he would didn't change that this was a fact. He was unpredictable, and dangerous, and all wrong for her… And she couldn't help that she wanted him anyway.

He stepped up onto the porch. They were both aware that they weren't really alone. Neither of them dared to speak, although his eyes seemed to be saying a million things. He didn't smile. Standing this close she could easily see that she'd been right about him; something was wrong… He reached out and just barely touched her hand as he walked by her, into the church.

…

They all listened to Rachel speak to The President, and Bass thought again what a glorious bitch she was. At least her powers can be used for good, he thought, as he watched her play the man. She played him like a fiddle.

_She was always good at that. _

Oh, and the President was _good_ and pissed and in all his cocky, overly confident, grade-A asshole glory when the men came busting into the church. He was so ready to show Rachel _just _who was in control, to punish her for her gall, he spilled it _all_… Just like she thought he would.

Bass had to hand it to her; she knew how to push a guys buttons.

But the, "Lady, I _am_ America" bit… That almost made the whole shitty day worth it. Bass thought the look on that prick's face when he saw everyone come in, and when he realized he'd been caught with his dick in his hand might be better than cutting his throat after all. _May_be.

…Bass still wanted blood. He promised Connor he'd get the republic back, and he meant it… And more blood would have to spill for it to happen. He watched Charlie, in her quiet way, happily watching how Miles grand plan had worked out just right.

She would never be ok with what needed to happen next. He wasn't willing to lose her, either, because she was too young and idealistic to understand… Or because she could remember the Monroe Republic only too well. All she had to do was look at the "M" scar on her own arm, or remember her brother was dead. At the thought, Bass felt a little sick.

_Maybe you've done enough to her?_ He offered himself, with little compassion. He saw that she was watching him from across the church… What the hell was he going to do about anything?

He rubbed his tired eyes and face as the men from Texas pushed the President out, and he heard their captive stop to threaten Rachel one last time. _He could actually understand the urge…_ And then, Miles, telling him to _enjoy his torture_.

_Smart-ass. _ Bass would have laughed, if he could have found it in him. He couldn't. It had been too long a day for laughing now. But at least it was over.

…

They were far from prying ears and blocked by big horse bodies when she finally reached for him. He held her and buried his face in her neck and hair. She felt him take a shuddering breath.

"What happened today? You left, and I thought—"

"That my word didn't mean piss?" He asked. His voice was weary. Very weary.

She didn't want to tell him, _yeah. Pretty much_. Because he was here now, it had all worked out thanks to him, and she felt guilty for doubting him. And…she sensed something wired tightly in him.

"I just didn't know what happened. Not at first. Miles told me, though, that he'd told you to go…"

He pulled back and she could see just how wrong something really was. "But _then_ what happened? Something happened."

"Connor found me. He hates me. Tried to get me killed." He reported like he was reporting on the night sky being black. It was only a crack in his voice that gave him away.

"What?" She had a sudden fear it was because of her. But there was _no way_ Connor cared that much about her. She didn't think he cared about her _at all_, actually. Once she wasn't giving it up for him again, they'd hardly even talked. Bass read her face easily.

"No. Not over you." He let out a bitter laugh under his breath, and he shook his head, "Somehow I think it's more about…_Miles_. And me. It's _me…_ Miles is right, Charlie. I ruin _every_thing with people who care about me."

He got a strange distant look in his eye, even though he was looking right at her. Charlie's brow worried. She could see it was more than the long day that had worn on him. She put her hand out for him, and he reached for it… and then pulled away.

"Charlotte," He started, quietly.

"Shut up." She cut him off, afraid of what he was going to say. Afraid of the look on his face, because it reminded her of when he'd pushed away from her at the river that night. That night he left her crying.

She stepped forward, and he was caught between her and the horse. Nowhere to go. "Just don't. Ok?"

He tilted his head to the side, and he ran his tired eyes over her face. His hands came up on her arms, but his eyes she noted even in the darkness, were so full of sadness. Connor had broken his heart. The thought made Charlie lay a hand on his chest, as if she could heal it with a touch.

Bass shook his head a little. His expression was pained, "Charlie, I don't know-

"Guess what?" She interrupted him. "Miles knew you'd come. I wasn't sure. _But Miles was_. So. You know. He might _say _a lotta things… But he knew you'd show. He even told my mom off."

At this, a little light came back in his gaze, and his mouth lifted on one side. "He did? He said that? He said he knew?"

"Yeah. He did… I'm sorry I didn't know. But he knew." She admitted. At this he finally lifted both hands from her arms to her face, cupping it. The pained expression was gone. He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her gently…Then deeper. It was as if he were trying to hold back, and then couldn't. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief into his kiss.

She wished she knew the rules of being in love. But She knew more about death than love. And _This love_. This love made her mind foggy and unsure of anything except how it felt when he touched her…and that she wanted more than anything for him to touch her.

When they broke apart, he pulled her into his arms and she laid her head against the heart she hoped wasn't all the way broken. She knew so little about fixing such thing… But he put his chin on her head and she felt him chuckle softly.

"He even told Rachel off. _Nice_." She felt him relax against her. His hands rubbed her back. _Thank God_, she thought. They could hear the noise of the Texans loading up and riding off, and Charlie knew the others in their own group would find them soon.

"Well… Don't get too happy. He also said he was gonna kill you. But I'm pretty sure he plans to wait until we deal with any pending war."

…


	8. Chapter 8: THIS ISN'T LALA LAND

Bass lay on his newly acquired bunk and ran through the events of the morning in his head, like he was reviewing a particularly good—albeit, violent- movie. Watching them all get shot down was even more satisfying than he'd thought. It really was. The only thing that would have made it better is if he could have shared the moment with his son.

_Monroe family bonding._ He smiled to himself. He might really be a sick bastard in a lotta ways, as Miles would tell him… but at least now he'd have something to show Connor when he found him again. He'd have something to prove that his word wasn't empty. He couldn't wait for that day. He'd lived too long without his kid, and he meant to find him soon. And when he did, he hoped Tom Neville was there, too… So he could cut _somebody's_ throat.

"Hey." Miles was sanding in the tent doorway, looking down at him on the bunk, and letting the sun in to shine right in his eyes. "Get up, you lazy fuck."

"I've had an eventful day, actually." Bass said, sitting up. He watched Miles warily, as he came in and let the tent close. Unlike Charile, Bass didn't expect his old friend to wait out a war before he broached the subject of _things_.

"So I heard." Miles kept his face unreadable. To anyone who hadn't known him since he was jerking off to his dads Playboys, that is. Bass, on the other hand understood that much was brewing under the stillness.

"Go ahead and say what you gotta say, Miles." Bass kept his voice low and calm. He kept his eyes on Miles, ready to defend himself if he needed to. He wasn't stupid. He'd been to this rodeo before.

"Had an eventful day, and _look at you_\- You haven't even spent it defiling my niece." Miles' voice was also low and calm. He tilted his head to one side, as if thoughtful.

"Jesus, Miles." Bass shook his head, and cut a face.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you find that _offensive_, asshole?"

"Yeah, I do, actually. And so would… _your niece_? " Bass let his meaning drop, and Miles didn't fail to pick it up. When he spoke again, his voice wasn't as calm or low.

"Do you think it's _better _that she's not just my niece, Bass? Because guess what, dick? It sorta makes it all worse."

"Miles—"

"She could be _your_ daughter. Did you think of that? You are old enough to be her father. What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?" Miles' face lost all its forced placidness. He was just pissed.

Bass couldn't stay seated on the bunk anymore. This was going to happen, it had to happen. He needed to be on his feet, and looking Miles in the eye. So he stood, and looked him dead in the eye.

"But I'm not her father. And there is no use playing in fucking lala land, Miles. _This_—" He waved his arms out at the tent, at the world—is not lala land! And she's not a kid—you know that! She's not a kid—"

"She _is a_ kid! She's _my_ kid, goddamnit!" Miles yelled, pointing a finger at Bass. They both were forgetting the walls weren't solid, but neither cared in the moment.

"She's a woman _in this_ world, Miles. A tough, strong woman." Bass tried to bring his volume back down, and speak reasonably, through teeth he tried not to clench. "She's old enough to know who she cares about."

Miles looked at him for a long moment, his mouth a tight line, his dark eyes blinking in anger. Bass had seen him like this before, but he still didn't like it.

"And what about you, Bass?" He finally asked, not yelling now.

"What about me, what?"

"What about you? Do you _care_ about her? Do you?"

Bass shook his head and huffed out a frustrated breath. He answered in as calm and serious a manner as he could, "So _much._ I care about her _so much_, Miles. I… Damnit, _I love her_."

Miles stepped closer to him. Their eyes dueled as they had so many times in the past. They knew each other so well—Miles had to see he was telling the truth! He had to believe him.

_Miles knew you'd show. I didn't. But Miles did._

Bass heard Charlie's words to him again. Miles _did _know him. He might act like an angry shit half the time—Ok, _they both_ might. But Miles _knew him_ and he knew Miles. Bass's eyes were bright and unblinking, willing his friend to know he was telling the truth, and to remember what it meant for Bass to love someone. How rare it was that he'd ever even say that.

Then Miles nodded knowingly. Bass thought he was starting to understand…

And then, "Then how can you pull her into your shit? How can you make her care about you, get so close to you? You break people, Bass. You _break_ them. And I swear to God, when you break her—_I will end you_."

At that Bass hauled off and pushed Miles in the chest as hard as he could, pushing him and his words, and his disbelief as hard as he could. "Fuck you, Miles! _Fuck_ you!"

And for some reason Miles didn't push him back or even hit him. He just put his hands up, and backed up with the push. The tent door swung open, and a young man in a Texas uniform peaked his head in.

"Is everything all right, Sirs?" He asked, sizing up the angry pair, noting it was both _the_ General Monroe and _the_ General Matheson in the tent. He looked from one angry face to the other. "_Shit," _the young marshal muttered. Neither of them even glanced in his direction.

"Get the fuck out." Miles answered in a neutral tone that clashed with the scene, and the tent door quickly dropped back down without another question.

Bass fought to control his breathing, but it came hard out his nose and clenched teeth. He knew the more out of control he was, the calmer Miles became… This was the dance. The dance they had been dancing as far back as they could both remember. _Calm, reasonable Miles and crazy, out of control Bass_. But Bass was not going to let it be like this… He stepped closer to Miles, and smiled.

"She loves me, too." He spoke softly.

"She told you that?"

"She didn't have to." He rocked his head, and closed his eyes as if lost in a beautiful memory. "A man knows."

"You asshole." Miles finally pushed him back, pushed him away hard, and he fell ass first down on his bunk. He sat there as if he'd meant to get more comfortable, and brought his elbows to his knees. He rested his chin on his fists, and looked up at Miles, satisfied he'd gotten the upper hand.

Miles looked down on him, before letting out a heavy sigh. He sat down on the other bunk. He rubbed his neck, and shook his head.

Finally he said, dejected, "If I don't kill you, Rachel will. Painfully."

"I love her." Bass stated again, unmoved.

"I want you to leave her alone. Break it off."

"No. I love her."

"Nobody gives a shit."

"I love her." He said again.

"You'll ruin her."

"…I'll try not to. God, I'll try so hard not to, Miles. I _promise _you. _Trust_ me."

"Trust you?" Miles asked, brows raised in disbelief. Bass ignored it.

"I know you can. _Trust_ me." Bass said. Miles leaned forward, and made sure Bass was paying attention. He spoke slowly.

"This isn't some piece of shit, wanna be dictator, Bass. This is Charlie…"

"Miles. I would rather die than lose her now." It was his final shot. It was all he had. It was the truth.

He hadn't realized his eyes were wet, until he needed to wipe them. He took a deep breath and let it out slow and steady. Miles watched him. Silently, sizing him up, taking in his moist eyes.. Bass watched him back…and thought he saw a shift in his gaze, a change in his face and the set of his mouth. Yes, in his shoulders, too…

After a minute Miles stood up, and stepped to open the tent—where a group of men quickly scattered. He didn't look back at Bass, but at the dirt floor. He shook his head, resigned.

"You don't gotta be a little bitch, 'bout it." And with those final words, he stepped out into the sunlight.


	9. Chapter 9: THEN LOVE ME

"I'm glad it's you, Miles. I want it to be you." Charlie said.

Miles didn't know what to say to that, but it mattered to him. It mattered to him that Charlie wanted him to love and be loved by her mom. It mattered, because if there was anyone in the world he loved more than Rachel…It was Charlie.

He wished he could give her the same blessing, he really did. She looked at him with her pure, clear grey-blue eyes, and her steady composure, and he thought about what Bass had just told him about her being a woman in this world. _A tough, strong woman…_ She was so much like her mom, although he knew she hardly wanted to know that. And then, in other ways, she was so much _like him…_ And he wondered if she realized that as he did—as everyone else seemed to.

He shook his head at the irony that this was probably why she could fall in love with Bass, or Bass with her.

"I don't want it to be Bass. I'm not glad it's him." He told her bluntly. He watched as the light sort of dulled in her eyes, and her mouth set into a pursed tightness. "I have to be honest with you, kid."

She nodded, and held his eyes. "I know."

"But it is." He stated the simple conclusion.

She kept nodding. "Yep. It just is."

They let the words sit between them, as the camp hustled around them. Then, "I…talked to him." Miles said, moving his gaze to the ground when he saw her scrunch her brows.

"And?"

"And I told him to break it off." He felt, rather than saw, her tension.

"…And?" He could hear so much fear and trepidation in that one small word, he knew it was over. He sighed deeply and met her eyes again.

"And he said no."

He watched as she tried to repress a smile. Her lips were pressed with the effort, but it showed up in her eyes anyway. Miles wondered that Bass could do that for her… After everything with Jason, and even with his kid Connor sniffing around—he was a mini-Bass, a real cocky little shit to be sure, but at least he was her age, he thought. But somehow it was Bass who made her light up after everything. _The fuck?_

And it was Charlie who brought tears to his old friends eyes, and the most honest emotion Miles had witnessed from that fucker in years…

"He said he was in love with you."

"He did?" Her voice was quiet, and he watched her blink rapidly. _More tears? Perfect_.

"I shouldn't tell you that. I don't want to encourage _any_ of this shit. I really don't, Charlie."

"I know you don't." But a small secret smile rested on her lips, and her eyes were glassy and bright.

He sat across from her on the chair her grandfather had vacated earlier, and leaned forward on his knees. "I know what it's like to love that guy. It isn't easy. In fact, it's a ride on a horse that is should be put down."

"Miles."

"No, listen to me…" He grabbed her hand, "Really. He makes it hard, Charlie. You've seen that."

She nodded. "I have… But you still love him."

He huffed out a held breath. _Goddamnit._ "I do. I've known him my whole life, and we've gone to hell and back together. Much of that hell we built for ourselves. It's not always a good thing."

"Is it always a bad thing?" Charlie asked, very quietly.

As much as he wanted to say otherwise, instead he said, "No. It's not always a bad thing. But I'm me, and you're you. And… Shit, Charlie. Can't you just love someone else? Love _anyone_ else but Bass Monroe."

Charlie stood up, still allowing him to grasp her hand. She looked down into his brown eyes, and cocked a smile at him. "I'll be ok, Miles… And even if I'm not, I'll be ok."

_Goddamnit._ He thought again, watching her back as she walked away to find Bass. He knew she was going to go find Bass. It was out of his hands. At east he said his piece. And hell, he hoped he was wrong… He could remember a time when Bass wasn't just a self-destructive asshole. He could remember that tow-headed kid who always had his back, always found the sunny-side of any gloomy day, even after he'd lost everyone in his family. Somehow even then, the boy Bass had been able to find a smile.

And then Miles could remember the younger man who loved a woman, and had hope for the future even when the lights went out and the world was falling apart. He remembered the way Bass had broken in shattered pieces Miles couldn't hold together when he lost her, when he lost their baby… How many times had he wondered what Bass would have been like, if he hadn't lost Shelly?

Miles was lost in these thoughts, with the sounds of the camp going on around him, and the sun beating down on his back, when he was suddenly cast in shadow.

He looked up into Rachel's very pale face. He looked up into Rachel's very wide eyes, and her very pale face that was unnaturally calm…

"Did I hear you just say that Charlie is… In _love_… with _Bass_?"

…

Charlie saw him before he saw her, standing with a group of younger Texas men who seemed to be held in rapt attention to whatever he was saying. They were smiling, as was he as he spoke, moving his arms and talking with his hands. She stopped and watched him hold court for a moment.

She hardly ever saw him loose and easy. She hardly ever saw him laugh with his guard down, being charming and not threatening… She cocked her head to the side and noticed how the other men watched him, as if they wanted to learn from him, impress him, _be _him. There was a reason he was able to gain power before, she thought, and it wasn't all from inciting fear. He had another side, just rarely seen in their history together, she could see now… One that made him shine in the eyes of others. Be someone they would follow.

Over the head of a shorter guy, his aqua gaze found her. He faded off of whatever he was saying, distractedly nodding to whatever was being said to him until some of the men followed his eyes to see what had stolen his attention. Charlie walked to the doorway of his tent, and stopped to look back over her shoulder at him. She smiled. She went in, feeling his eyes burning a hot blaze on her back.

She hardly had a chance to turn around once inside, before he was there, standing so, so close to her. His arms came around her, and pulled her to him. Their lips almost touched, eye lashes almost grazed.

"So you have a fan club." She spoke softly.

He just smirked, and leaned in to her mouth and laid a tender kiss on her lips. The hard feel of his body, the smell of him, his hands spread out on her back, and her own on his biceps… It all gave her butterflies of excitement in her gut.

"I'm so happy you came." He murmured against her lips. Then against her neck, he said "I was going to find you."

"Before your friends distracted you?" He pulled back and traced the curves of her face with his eyes, which roamed down her body to where her breasts were pushed against him, rising and falling with her breath. Slowly, still holding her, he stepped her back toward his bunk and when her legs hit it, she sat. He knelt in front of her, between her jeaned clad legs, his hands on either side of her hips.

"Yeah, them. And…"

"Miles." She finished for him. He sat back on his feet, looking up at her.

"Yes." He looked closely at her, waiting to see what she'd heard. Not sure how much Miles had reported, and not sure she'd liked it.

"He didn't kill you, then. That's good." She said lightly.

"No. But he was thinking about it." He cocked his mouth.

Her hands came up to his face, and he leaned into her touch and closed his eyes. "This is crazy. Isn't it?" Her words were soft, barely above a whisper. A little wonder sprinkled within them.

He nodded against her touch.

"But you told him…you said you wouldn't break things off."

He shook his head, and opened his blue eyes to look directly into hers. "I probably should, Charlotte… But I won't_. I can't_." His voice was low and gravely with intensity. So different from the man who was so entertaining the group of sycophants outside, before. Less sure, and more sure all at once.

She kissed him then, opening her mouth for his warm tongue, which he offered with a moan. His hands moved up her sides, under her tank and jacket. His bare fingers on her skin, made her moan in return and deepen the kiss. Her legs tightened against him, wrapped around him.

"Don't say you should. Don't say that." She said when they broke off. He rested his head in the crook of her neck, nuzzled her and sighed. Her arms were tight around his shoulders, her hands at the nape of his neck.

"I don't know why you want this, Charlie. I can't figure out why you would want this… I only know why I do." He pulled back and asked, his brows knitted, "Why do you want me?"

Charlie couldn't find words to explain how it happened. She couldn't find words to explain how her enemy had become the person she wanted so desperately. She shook her head at him helplessly.

"I just do. Can't that be enough for now?" She released her grasp on him, and slipped her jack off. He sat back on his haunches again and watched as she then pulled her tank top off over her head. She stood, and unbuttoned her pants, the whole time their eyes held. He reach up and slowly slid her jeans over her hips, and down her long legs to pool at her feet. She kicked out of them, along with her boots.

Quickly Bass glanced at the flimsy tent door, the daylight seeping through the folds. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but we shouldn't do this now. Someone could come in here…"

Charlie reached behind her and unclasped her cotton bra. She let it fall before him, and he turned his attention back to her standing before him in her skivvies. His eyes roamed from the bra on the ground, up her legs, over her smooth midsection, to her naked breasts. He let out a rough, airy laugh, before meeting her eyes.

"We shouldn't do any of this, maybe. But fuck it." She smiled.

"Holy shit, you are…" He huffed out a hard breath of appreciation, and shook his head in awe. "My God, you are…"

His hands moved to run like feathers over her skin, and he stood to stand mere inches in front of her. She reached for the hem of his shirt, pulled it up and over his head and arms when he raised them for her. She ran her eyes and hands over his softly curling scattering of fair chest hair, and followed it down his abs to his zipper. He inhaled when she pulled the zipper down. And again when she pushed his pants off his naked hips.

"So are you." She smiled. That was enough for him. Swiftly he had her laying on her back on the bunk, and hovered above her. He kissed her mouth, and her long neck. He kissed her shoulders and came to take a pert nipple into his mouth. He circled it with his tongue, massaging the weight of her tits in his hands. He groaned against her skin as if he was a man who'd gone too long without water, and she was the river of life.

…

Bass could no longer give a shit if anyone came in. She stood before him, long and lean, and mostly naked. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders to what were possibly the most perfect breasts he'd ever seen. And then he caught sight of her stormy colored eyes, and he saw in them reflected the same yearning he held…

_We shouldn't do any of this, maybe. But fuck it. _ If he hadn't already been hard from kissing her, he was hard now. She was… she was _amazing_, but he couldn't even make his mind agree to work with his mouth to finish his thought. All the blood was otherwise utilized.

He had her under him on his bunk in an instant, and her luscious body in his mouth. He heard himself groan, and just on the edges of his mind he thought about the men walking around outside the tent, possibly hearing him losing his shit over the young woman they watched him follow inside… He had to keep it quiet, he tried to remind himself.

_But jesus,_ if he couldn't lose himself in her. Every time he'd gotten to touch her, the world rolled away. His hand roamed her skin, over her soft, heavy tits, along her neck that was offered to him, down her arms…

He froze when his hands grazed the scar on her forearm. He lifted his mouth from her nipple and looked where his thumb rested on the raised mark—_the brand_—shaped like an M. M for Monroe.

_M for General Monroe. A scar. He'd scarred her._

"Oh God, Charlotte." He breathed out. "Oh, Jesus…" All this time he'd avoided noticing her scar. All these months and months, and all the shit they'd gone through together… All that time, when she'd become _someone _for him, someone important. Someone he cared for. Loved.

All this time he'd ignored this scar that was evidence of who he'd been, of how far off the fucking rails he'd wandered. No, wandered wasn't even it. He'd barreled off like a run away train, running down everyone he had to.

He felt her remove her wrist from his hold, and bring her soft hands to his face. He couldn't bring himself to pull away from her, as she guided his gaze to her own. And then he was stunned to see how she looked at him without hatred. Because he was full of it for himself. For the second time that day his eyes were suddenly misty.

"Oh God, Charlotte." He said again, when he was able.

They lay still like that for several moments, her hands on his face, him blinking back his tears and trying to find his voice.

_How could she want me?_ He wondered. Miles was so right about him, about her, about them.

"You didn't do it." She offered him, quietly.

"_But I did_. I didn't have to burn you, to do it. It's me, it's _my _mark." He wasn't going to lie. He was a grown man, and this was the truth. And she couldn't deny it. He wished to fuck she could.

He was about to pull away, and get off of her. _Let her get away from him…_ Then she said, "I killed Jason. I shot him and he bled to death in my arms—"

"Charlie—"

"I didn't want to, but I had to. I didn't want to, but I did." She let her fingers stroke his face. "We do things."

"Everything you did, you _had _to do." He said firmly. It wasn't the same. She wasn't the same as him. He wouldn't let her say she was. He pulled away and sat up, happy he still had his pants mostly on. She pushed herself up and draped her arms around his back, pressing her naked flesh against him, laying her face on his shoulder.

"I know something." She finally said into the silence. He turned his head toward hers. "I know you told Miles you loved me."

At this, he lay his hand over hers where it was on his chest, pressing it to better feel his heart beating underneath. "I do. _I do_ love you." He thought he'd never meant those words more. And he felt he never deserved to say them less.

But Charlie propped her chin on his shoulder and pressed her lips against his. Then she maneuvered around until she sat facing him on his lap. He couldn't help stroking her back, or running his fingers up into her hair. He couldn't help his hard-on coming back to life, pressing against his pants, either.

Charlie leaned in, grazing her nipples against his chest. His mind and conscious were battling with his body, and losing, mightily.

"_Then love me_." Came her whisper against his lips. Then she pushed him back on the mattress, and she pulled his pants down, releasing him. He watched her through unbelieving eyes as her tender hand came to grip him.

_Then love me._

Suddenly, she was on her back again where he had just been, and his mouth was hot on hers, and he kissed her hard enough to take back every wrong he's ever done her. He kissed her hard enough to make it all fade, make it all fade away in the shadow of their passion.

_Then love me._

His hands impatiently shoved the last of her clothing, the plain white underwear, down and she kicked them off and wrapped her strong legs around him. He wanted to push into her, burry himself in her wetness and fuck them both into another time, another place…

Instead he ran his hand down her skin, over her curves, gripped her ass. He pushed a leg down and found her clit, rubbing circles with his thumb while he kissed her swollen lips. He was happy to hear and feel her sharp intake of breath when he slipped two fingers inside her. Her eyes were closed, and he watched her falling into the pleasure, as he stroked her.

He wanted to only give her pleasure, and never hurt her. He wanted his touch to mean joy to her, his name to only be on her lips when she sighed or moaned in ecstasy, now and always.

_He only wanted to love her_.

"Bass…" She sighed into his mouth. "Oh Bass…" He felt her rocking against his hand. He felt her walls tightening, gripping his fingers as he stroked, and then he felt her burst and he clasped his mouth down on hers to catch her cry. She shuddered, and shuddered, over and over and he kept eyes open, watching her as they kissed… until she was spent, and glowing.

He lined himself up with her, and he waited until she had her eyes open, _seeing him seeing her_… before he pushed inside her.

_And then again… And again_. Slow and easy, so that he could hold himself in control for as long as possible. At one point closing his eyes, because her beautiful face, her beautiful mouth open and panting, her beautiful eyes all dreamy and soft, was too much for him.

He'd been with many women, he'd even loved a few… But this was something new to him, this place she was able to bring him. It wasn't any place he'd ever been before. And it was the place he'd always wanted to be. Since he was a child suddenly, and violently alone in the world, he had looked and never found it.

He _belonged_ to this girl. This magical girl, this strong surviving _woman _whose every touch and sweet sigh was singing him out of himself, as a snake charmer sang the cobra from the basket.

…Perhaps his name regrettably marked her skin, but so was her brand on him. He was marked forever as hers. _Then love me_, she'd said.

And he did.

…


	10. Chapter 10: OF FOOLS AND LUCK

Bass stood watching Charlie sleeping in his tent, her hair spread out over his pillow, and her hand lying where his body had been. Scenes from their time together played in his mind. Scenes that made him want remove his clothes again, and slip back in next to her, and pretend nothing else existed outside the tent.

But there was still a small war to win.

Across the camp he came upon a sight that made him stop in his tracks; There sitting at a makeshift table of barrels and a couple sun-bleached wagon boards, was Rachel and Connor. Bass felt his heart hitch with relief. _Connor._ His son was back. His son, who was last with Neville, he suddenly realized.

He looked around quickly for Tom among the people coming and going around the camp. No one here would know him. He could easily find Charlie. _Shit._ Bass was just turning to go back to the tent, when Connor raised his eyes from Rachel and saw him. Bass couldn't walk away now… _Ok. Talk to him. Find out where that dick is. Maybe the kid came to his senses and killed him._

"Connor…" Bass said, surprised to find his voice almost crack. He cleared his throat. "It's good to see you." He nodded at his handsome son, hoping his eyes could speak for him.

"Dad." Connor just looked at him, and Bass couldn't tell what the kid was thinking at all. Rachel kept her gaze on the table in front of her, that strange and creepy smile of hers on her lips. Bass could guess what she was thinking, but he didn't care. He assumed by now Miles had told her about him and Charlie.

"Rachel." He acknowledged her without moving his eyes from Connor's face.

"Bass." She said in her soft voice that said nothing and everything.

"Rachel was just filling me in." Connor finally said.

"Filling you in? Yeah. You missed a lot when you were off on your little walk-about with a psychopath." Bass said. He looked around casually, as if he didn't care, but asked anyway, "Where is he? Tom? Dead, I hope."

Connor smiled a smile that didn't touch his eyes. "He could be, but I doubt it. He seems to have a talent for living… I don't know where he is. He took off not long after we broke ourselves out of the prison you left us to die in. Gone in the night, actually. Not a word."

"Left you to die in, huh? After you tried to kill me, you mean?" Bass spoke softly, but could feel himself heating up.

"I didn't actually shoot at you. If that means anything." Connor said as if he could give a shit if it meant anything, or not. He turned his attention back to the table, and the cup he held. Rachel, Bass noted, had her brow lifted to high heaven at their exchange.

"It doesn't." Bass said.

"I'm sure Charlie licked your wounds." Connor said, his voice tighter than his tone struggled to be. At his words Rachel cut a face.

"Please. She's my daughter. She might have lost her mind, but she's still my daughter." Connor only smirked. Bass was not amused, and losing patience with his son's act.

"So now it's all out on the table. Good." Bass placed his hands down on the table, and leaned closer to them looking from one to the other. "I suggest you both get over it. We've still got some work to do."

"And here I didn't even think you'd make it outta your tent today." Connor said into his cup, before looking up at Bass. "I wouldn't."

Bass grabbed Connors jacket and lifted him up off the bench, shaking him hard. All his patience had run out. He pulled Connor up close to his face, and spoke low and measured, "You won't say that kinda shit again. You pissed at me, kid? Fine. But guess what? I'm pissed at you, too. That's what setting me up to be killed dose to me. We'll work it out. But you will not say shit like that again. Charlie is off limits. Do you understand? _Son_?"

Again he found Connors dark eyes unreadable. Connor didn't try and fight his hold, he just raised his hands and his brows in mock surrender. Bass could feel Rachel's eyes on them, and heard her stand up from the table.

"Sure. I understand. _Dad_."

Bass let him go, and they stepped away from one another. After a minute, Rachel cleared her throat and said, "Are you staying to fight with Texas? Connor?"

Suddenly Connor's face dropped the quiet hostility, and almost lit up when he flashed a charming smile. "I wouldn't miss it."

Bass felt himself relax a little. He tried to soften his tone when he spoke again. He tried to convey what he knew in his heart to be true, that he could still give Connor everything he said he would.

"I told you it wasn't over. Do you see? It's not over, Connor. We are closer to what we want. _Do you see_?"

"Sure. I see." Connor nodded agreeably. "I see it all. That's why I'm back."

Bass nodded back. He reached out and gripped his son's shoulder, so glad he understood now. He felt emotion rising inside him; good emotion. Excitement and love.

"Good. Good. We're together again, and we _will _make it all happen now, Connor. Just like I promised you."

Connor nodded again. Rachel just watched them quietly, her arms folded in front of her. She watched as Connor walked away to find out about sleeping arrangements, and she watched Bass look after him. Finally, Bass turned back to her and the happy look on his face faded in the face of her…weirdness.

"Oh, Christ, _what_? What Rachel? Just get it over with."

He expected her to bitch about Charlie, make some threats, call him some names, but instead she said, "I don't know. Something isn't right with him."

Bass huffed out a bitter laugh. "Let me help you out with that—could it be that he's _my kid_? That he came back, and we're going to get the Republic back, and I'm sure that really chaps your _ass?_" Rachel didn't bite. She shook her head and looked thoughtful. Worried, even.

"No, Bass. That's not it."

Bass stepped closer to her now, and shook his head, so tired of fighting with this woman. So fucking tired of _her_.

"Whatever, Rachel. Go find Miles. Tell him all about it." She flinched when he raised his hand and knocked lightly on her head. "He's the only one who cares about what goes on up here."

Rachel watched her enemy walk back in the direction of his tent, where she knew now her only living child was probably waiting for him. Where her child would probably greet him with a smile Rachel rarely saw… But that didn't bother her like it should have. It didn't bother her like it did only hours ago…

Because Rachel was thinking about Connor, and how she had just noticed how easily he fooled Bass. And for some reason, _that_ bothered her a lot.

…

Charlie was still naked in the tent, when the doors flapped back, and a smiling Bass came back in. She smirked at him, and raised herself up on her elbows, letting the blanket fall not quite low enough. She liked how he stopped and took her in, shaking his head in appreciation before he stepped out of his boots.

"I was just getting up."

"Oh no, you weren't." He told her, lifting his shirt over his head, still smiling. She laughed when he crawled up on the bunk over her, and used his teeth to pull the blanket down.

"But I'm starting to get hungry."

"Mmm", he mumbled against her skin, nipping her lightly. "Me too."

"Aren't you afraid people will come in, anymore?" she wiggled underneath him, making him growl a little and felt him ground himself down on her in a way that made her buzzed with lust.

"Nope. They know now whose tent it is." He lifted his face, and she saw how happy he looked. Almost glowing. "Charlie, Connor is back. Without Tom, " he was quick to add.

"Really? You talked to him?"

"Yes. It was a little… rough. The kid can be a real dick."

Charlie made a doubtful face. "That's crazy. Wonder where he gets that?"

Bass dug his whiskered face down into her neck, making her squirm and laugh. "It doesn't matter. What matters is he's back. I have another chance."

He looked at her, and she put her hand on his face, her fingertips touching the lines around his eyes that came out when he smiled. She decided they were very sexy… Clearly, she could see how much it meant to him. She couldn't see even a trace of the sadness that had lived in his eye for so long. In fact, she could hardly see anything but relief and happiness. It was a rare sight.

"I'm glad." She told him, and he kissed her.

"I think you are my charm, Charlotte," he said between deep kisses. She slid her hands under the waste of the loosed pants he still wore, and over his hard naked ass, and tipped her head back for his kissed on her neck. The ones that made her feel like she was falling back into warm water.

Connor was back… Tom was gone… Everyone knew they were together… She was alone with him, his hands and mouth making her body hum… She didn't know if she was a charm, but she did feel lucky.

For once in her life, she was getting very lucky.

…


	11. Chapter 11:THE ONE WHO BROKE IT

**(Hi Again! Thank you for sticking with this story for so long, as I have been unable to figure out it's direction. I also changed work, and have no time anymore to write. But this year I intend to do more writing, and finish this story...My FanFiction style is usually to follow the shows direction, and fill in what's "missing", or "should be." Now that Revolution was so WRONGLY canceled mid-storyline, I haven't know just where to take it! Ugh. So I'm going to try and finish the storyline as best I can. I think I know where I'm going. I hope you'll stick with me. :) *Amberlie**

11: THE ONE WHO BROKE IT

The weeks went by quickly, and the Patriots were easily removed from Willoughby. The camp started to come down as people moved back into the town, and the Texans started to leave. The fight wasn't over, however, they all knew it. It would move east—and west, should California become an issue—but for sure east, because Bass at least had no intention of letting that fucker Davis get away with all the shit he'd pulled. They had him, but what he'd built was still standing.

Bass could never stand for that.

Also, he figured Davis must have some kinda ace up his sleeve, because when Bass saw him last he was…_strange. _Really fucking strange. Calm. Unworried even. Bass thought if he were smart—and he knew he _was _smart. Bass hadn't lied to him that day in the shed; he could recognize the genius of his plotting—he'd have been very worried.

So something was up. They needed to be rid of him, his gut told him.

"We need to off that prick. Like, yesterday." Bass put down to the table.

"That should be obvious." Connor threw out support.

Blanchard said, "We'll be taking him back for Texas to deal with. These are the orders."

"Well those are _stupid _orders. The man is trouble, and the longer he's alive the greater risk he is to us all." Bass stated.

"What if he knows more? What were the other plans? They must have had other plans, Bass. If we kill him now, we have no way of finding out." Miles said, taking a drink of his whiskey.

"Who gives a shit, Miles?" Bass said to him. "His death will put a damper on whatever plans the Patriots mighta had. They don't have another leader lined up—"

"—You don't know that."

Bass cut a face at him. "Are you just determined to naysay whatever I think? You think I'm an idiot?"

Miles raised his brows, "Ah, _yeah_. The thought has crossed my mind in the last couple of decades—"

"You assho—"

"Ok! Ok, Jesus! _Enough_ with you two love birds and your bullshit!" Blanchard yelled. "You two are worse than my bitch ex-wife and her rag of a mother, fer christsakes…"

Connor shook his head.

"Look," Bass tried again, "Whatever they might have had planned, a dead Davis is gonna force them to readjust the sails. It buys us time to plan how we are going to come at them."

He looked around the table. "You know I'm right. Miles? You know I'm right."

Miles pursed his mouth in thought, took a breath and finished off his whisky. He slammed the glass down on the table and admitted, "Yeah, shit. Yeah, he 's right."

Bass nodded in satisfaction.

"Well, he might be, Miles. But I got my own orders. The President is a guest of Texas, and our own President has a bone to pick. So. We will be taking him back." Blanchard said.

Miles and Bass both started in on Frank, while Connor sipped his whiskey.

The three of them leaned against a wagon outside the tent where the men continued to argue. It had been a few days that Pricilla had been back on her feet, and Rachel and Aaron still watched her closely. They were quiet, all of them, while they listened to the voices inside. Aaron sighed and tilted his head back to look at the tree branches above them.

"It won't matter. None of it will matter." Pricilla said in a dull voice.

Aaron and Rachel didn't answer her. They didn't need to. They knew she was right.

"Anything they think matters now…won't matter." She said. "I saw it all…"

"They will _never _believe us." Aaron said to the trees.

"No. They won't. Not at first." Rachel agreed. The three stood in silence a moment longer. "But we're going to have to try and make them understand."

Aaron chuckled a mirthless reply. "Come on, Rach. We don't even know what the Nano is doing yet. Make them believe _what_? I told Miles about the, the fire I saw, the men bursting into flames before his eyes, remember? He didn't even believe that…"

He kicked the dirt.

"He just doesn't understand yet. He will." She answered.

"They will _think_ we are _crazy._"

"Crazy things have happened, Aaron." Pricilla said.

"You died. And came back to life." Rachel reminded him.

"They already think you're a little off your nut, Rachel." Aaron pointed out. "How are we going to prove to them what we say is true?

Rachel pushed off the wagon, and turned to face the other two. "We did this, Aaron. They will believe us…when they see it. They have to. And we have to fix it."

"And what?" Asked Pricilla, "Until then they're going to run off and fight each other—_kill _each other, which is _exactly_ why the Nano want to take control. Wonderful. And we just wait?"

The three fell silent. It was true, but what could they do about it? Just then, Connor pushed out of the tent, pausing when he saw them. He nodded, and offered a half smile that didn't touch his dark eyes, before heading in the other direction. The other men still debated inside, loudly.

"…Do you like him?" Pricilla suddenly asked, watching the young man's back.

"He's a young Bass Monroe. What's not to like?" Asked Aaron with not a little sarcasm. "At least he doesn't call me Stay Puff."

"Why do you ask that?" Rachel looked at her.

"I don't know. I don't know him—I mean, I don't really remember him…from before." Pricilla said, indicating what the three had come to call her 'time away'. "There's…just something."

"Nano? Do you think he's Nano?" Aaron came alert, looking after Connor.

"No. No, that's not it." Pricilla shook her head.

"No. It's not that." Rachel agreed. "But it's something… I don't trust him."

"He did try and let his pops get shot down. You'd think you'd like him for that." Aaron said.

"...Mmm, you'd think." Rachel said quietly.

Charlie was ready to move back to Willoughby. The camp was almost deserted by now, tents left empty or folded down. Wagons packed full, or halfway there. She was as ready to move back to a real house as she'd ever been. But when she noticed the shower tent still standing, she realized she couldn't wait till Willoughby to feel clean. Resolutely she marched up to the door, and flipped the occupied sign, before slipping through the flaps.

Quickly she slipped out of her boots and jeans, turning on the water, and coming out of her tank and jacket. She dropped her panties and bra—making note that it was time to find a new one—and stepped into the shower, letting the lukewarm water run over her. She ducked under the fall of water, and rubbed the sweat and dirt from the day from her face. Blindly she reached for the bar of soap she knew was left on the shelf near her.

"Here you go." She felt the soap being put into her reach. She made a started yelp, and opened her eyes to see…Connor leaning over the shower stall. He had a wicked grin on his face. Charlie quickly covered her breasts, and stepped back.

"What the fuck?" She yelled.

"Why so shy? I have seen it before. Granted it was dark…" He gave her a longer once over, and shook his head in appreciation. "Day light is better."

"Get the fuck out, Connor."

"I'm feeling dirty." He said suggestively.

Charlie used one hand to slam against the door. "Get the fuck _out_ of here! This isn't funny!"

His face became sober. Then both of them heard voices getting near, from somewhere outside. It sounded like her mom, and maybe Pricilla. Suddenly he bent and grabbed her jacket off the floor. He tossed it roughly over the door. "Calm down, princess."

She held the jacket in front of her, aware it didn't cover has much as she wished it did. But he didn't seem interested now. He scowled at her in hostility.

"It was just a joke." He whispered harshly. "You used to be more fun. Before you started fucking my old man."

"I wonder how he would feel about your joke?" She asked in a normal voice. Connor seemed about to answer when Rachel's voice came from the door flap.

"Charlie? Is that you?"

She kept her eyes on Connors. His jaw tightened. "Yeah. It's me. Thought I'd wash up while I had a minute."

"Ok… Well, Bass and Miles are out of the meeting and will be looking for you."

"Yeah, ok." She called back, evenly. "I'll be right there." Connor didn't break their gaze.

"…I thought I heard you talking to someone." Rachel said.

Charlie lifted a brow. "No one. Just myself."

After a few seconds lag, they listened to the footsteps away. Then Charlie told him, "You better get out of here. Now."

"You think you're a real special piece of ass, don't you? You think he gives a shit?" He dared to lean a little closer to the door. She could feel the wind of his words on her wet skin. "He knows you're my leftovers."

"Am I?" Charlie answered calmly, "Oh, yeah. I hardly remembered."

Connor smirked, and she was relieved when he turned to go. He paused, looking out the tent flaps, then turned and threw back at her, "You know the only Matheson ass he really cares about, is Miles. If you _don't _know that, you're as dumb as you are wet."

Charlie watched the door a few moments before she moved to grab the rest of her clothes. _What the fuck was that_? She thought. As calm as she'd tried to seem, she was found she was shaking now, buttoning her pants. Connor had hardly said two words to her in these weeks at the camp, and now _this? _She was tossing the encounter around in her mind, when she came out of the shower tent to find Rachel waiting.

"Are you going to tell Bass?" Rachel asked.

"Tell him what?"

Rachel tilted her head at her and raised a brow.

"What do you care what I tell Bass? Unless it's goodbye." Charlie started walking away from her. She followed.

"You're right about that. No secret." Rachel said in her calm way, "But I care about this, too."

Charlie turned on her, "Why? You don't know anything."

"I know he was in that tent with you. I know you didn't invite him. And I know Bass would want to kill him. It's what he dose."

Charlie just looked at her, matching her calm demeanor. "You also know it would hurt him. Bass. And you'd like that."

Rachel shook her head, and finally showed her frustration. "Charlie, I care about _you_ being hurt. Don't be stupid!"

"He didn't hurt me. He's nothing."

"He's dangerous."

Charlie turned away again and started walking, throwing over her shoulder, "You think anything connected to Monroe is dangerous."

Rachel watched her go. The tips of her fingers felt numb, as always happened when her senses were heightened. Lightly she drummed them together. _Damn her_. When did she become so untouchable, to her? So out of her reach?

_When you left her_. She answered herself. It didn't matter that she hadn't a choice. They were never going to be close again, and it was her own fault. She knew it. Rachel could still see the little golden haired girl Charlie had been when she left, could still feel her little firm arms around her. That was another lifetime…another child, almost. But God, she missed her.

She swiped at the wetness on her cheek, and looked around. She took in a rugged breath. _Fine. Fine, fuck it. Fine. _It wasn't Charlie's job to fix anything. She was the mother, and she broke..._everything_. She raised her head, and fixed her jaw.

She'd be goddamned if she's let anything else break Charlie. Not Bass Monroe. And not his duplicitous spawn.


End file.
